


The Other Side of Paradise

by icaarus



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst, Angst and Romance, Ballroom Dancing, DNF, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Gay, George can't take a hint, How Do I Tag, King George is kinda hot tho ngl, King and Lionheart, Kiss Kiss Fall in Love, Light Smut, M/M, Mild Smut, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, dreamnotfound, florida man currently passing away, holy fuck he just fell totally in love again, sexy green man steals heart of local colourblind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icaarus/pseuds/icaarus
Summary: The ball to celebrate High Cerulean Prince George's coronation was a long awaited festival of light and rejoice the Kingdom of Caerule had needed for decades. Outsiders from across the Azure Sea had arrived on the Island for the festivities, including an eye-catching young man who dubbed himself "Dream". The ball was a whirl of lights and music and laughter, high spirits and shimmering gowns sweeping across the polished ivory floor. When a tall, beautiful, masked man boldly requested a dance with the newly crowned King George, the king found himself falling for the mysterious stranger as they danced and swirled across the ballroom floor.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 115
Kudos: 197





	1. Coronation

The High Cerulean Prince of the Kingdom of Cearule couldn't decide which was more of a raging pain in his ass: his coronation suit or his Royal Guard and close friend, Sapnap.

"Do I have to wear this? It's so...fancy." George stood in front of his crystal full-length mirror, fiddling with his sapphire encrusted cuffs. His coronation was at high noon, only an hour away. The sun shone brightly through his wide-open balcony doors and George could see the square below the castle was already buzzing with activity, people of all different backgrounds swarming together to celebrate the grand affair of his crowning. A light breeze whispered through his bed chamber, ruffling his hair and making his short cape float lightly so he looked, for just a moment, nearly ethereal.

"Yeah, I mean, you actually have to look good today. Like maybe you tried to dress yourself up for, y'know, the biggest day in your life," Sapnap replied sarcastically from where he leaned against one of the plush velvet chairs behind George. His sword was sheathed at his hip and he too was dressed up for the festivities. Outfitted in a simple crisp white suit with red detailing and his house crest paired with his crest as a royal guard were sewn onto both shoulders, George couldn't help but think Sapnap looked more princely than he did. Sapnap cocked his head to the side and waved his hand in the air as he spoke, "There's a lot of ladies down there tonight, you should at least try to appease your late mother's wishes of finding yourself a damn girlfriend. And put on some pants for Dyna's sake."

Sapnap laughed as George promptly flipped him off. Without lowering his finger, George turned and glared with obvious distaste at the awful pair of pants that had been delivered to his chambers earlier that morning by the shy maid with the soft voice and ivory skin.

The pants themselves weren't bad, ironed into perfection by the unseen palace staff. They were white, the colour of sunlight on marble with sapphire gems and detailing threaded up and down the sides and at the hips. They were tailored to fit George's very frame, hugging all the right places. But dammit it was so _itchy_.

Nevertheless George dutifully shoved each leg into the pants, tucking his loose white silk shirt into the waistline and sliding on the crushed velvet navy gloves that felt like a second skin over his fingers. Finally, two tiny sapphire earrings studded into each ear and a few other ornaments along with sleek black boots with buckles and lots of fiddling with his clothing later, George was ready and dressed.

Sapnap whistled in appreciation as George stood in front of the mirror. "Damn Prince. You look almost as hot as your mom did."

"Fuck off,"

Sapnap's quiet laughter trailed behind George as he strode with a brazen sort of pride away from the mirror and open balcony and deeper into the castle.

The ancient clock tower at the apex of the palace chimed twelve times.

***  
  


He'd only seen this side of the Azure Sea once before when he was but a small child at the innocent age of five. 

Now he returned after nearly sixteen years, the ocean air flattening his sandy hair back against his scalp and his sunkissed skin tanned from the long voyage at sea. His sea-green eyes were narrowed against the midday sun, and his freckles were more pronounced then ever. He sat at the prow of the ship with his legs dangling off the side and watched as the speck of land grew nearer and more defined. Even now he could tell the Kingdom of Cearule was humming with activity, shouts of delight and music mingling with the crashing of the waves against the boat. He'd been looking for an excuse to come back here, and after getting a letter from his best and oldest friend who was now a high royal guard that invited him to come celebrate, he decided on a whim to call in a few favours and a few days later he was setting off across the Azure Sea to the Kingdom of Caerule.

He grinned at another passing ship heading to the docks, people waving and smiling back at him from the deck. 

The breeze was cool and refreshing next to the sun and humidity of the summer day, a perfect mixture for the High Prince's coronation. The seagulls were calling out to one another as they flew alongside the boat, dolphins appearing now and then to play near the ship. It was like even the animal kingdom was celebrating the crowning of the High Prince. Like the mother of gods Dyna herself had looked down upon the mortal world and smiled warmly at the Kingdom of Caerule. 

"Aye, you there! We be comin' up to them docks an' minute now. Get off yer arse and comin' help the boys move the cargo!" The gruff voice of the captain cut through his thoughts, pulling him out of his daydreaming. 

"Yessir. Thank you for the transport, I'll make sure to tell Mary back in Lindel to give you the next shipment of ale free when it comes in." He promised as he swung his legs back onto the deck and ran a hand through his wind swept hair. The captain just grunted in response and waved him off, but he could tell the captain was pleased with the promise of ale. Jogging lightly across the deck and swinging down into the underbelly of the ship, he greeted a couple of the crewmates who were chatting merrily amongst each other. 

He maneuvered around a couple sleeping kittens tucked up against the crates, heading to the back of the storeroom where he would likely find the two youngest crewmates, a strawberry blonde loudmouth named Tommy and his small, quieter best friend Tubbo. As he cut through the maze of crates, he caught snippets of some of the crewmember's conversations. 

_"You think we'll see the High Cerulean Prince?"_

_"I've heard he's kept behind those walls like a prisoner,"_

_"Really? I heard he's always out in the markets chatting up girls,"_

_"No, that's his guard. I've heard his parents were very protective and kept him inside all the time,"_

_"Is he sickly?"_

_"No, nothing like that."_

Interesting. He tucked those pieces of information into the back of his head for later. If the prince really was kept shut up in that castle he must not have very much life experience. Yet the kingdom seemed to prosper and even people in the lowerclass were proud of their work and the kingdom had been stable for hundreds of years.

_"I heard the prince is looking for a wife, and that's why he's holding a ball tonight."_

_"Ooh, really? I heard rumours the prince wasn't, well, interested in women."_

_"Pff, he's a prince. He's got to get married at some point. To, like, pump out heirs to the throne or whatever."  
_

_"Oh for Dyna's sake! You're disgusting ."_

_"Ha! I've heard the prince is pretty hot, so he probably has someone behind the scenes."_

_"Shut up!"_

His lips turned up in a slight smile at the crewmates' conversation, going over the information they'd provided him with their gossiping. He'd heard the prince was beautiful even for a royal, with pale skin and thick dark hair and a slightly smaller but strong frame that was packed with muscle. But the thing every person across the nations always gossiped about was the Prince's eyes. Supposedly one was a dark amber/brown and the other a perfect cerulean blue, true to the kingdom's name and royal colour. Supposedly the blue eye matched the colour of the surrounding sea, and one could tell when a troubling storm was brewing by looking at the Prince's blue eye.

Every kingdom knew of the Prince, who was in his prime marrying age at 23 years. He also knew the Lindel princess and prince had both been invited to the Cearule coronation. He now wondered if perhaps the Prince had invited them not only out of courtesy, but because he was indeed seeking a partner on the throne.

"Oi, big man! Over here, mate." The sharp voice of the youngest crewmate blasted from the corner of the hold, quickly followed by a soft, bright greeting from his companion. 

Tommy grinned and clapped the sandy blonde man on the back when he joined them in the crowded corner. Tubbo tossed him an apple while biting into his own, his fluffy chocolate hair falling in front of his eyes. "Do you think we'll get to meet the High Cerulean Prince?" Tubbo thought aloud, his Caerule accent punctuating his words. Both Tubbo and Tommy had supposedly originally come from Caerule or one of the surrounding islands, but neither had parents to confirm or deny this fact. They had both grown up on the streets, and had found each other after Tubbo had been tossed into the ocean by a gang of other orphans hanging around the docks. From what the sandy-blonde man had heard, Tommy had jumped in right after Tubbo and hauled him out before going and beating the living shit (and getting beaten the hell out of) out of the kids who had thrown Tubbo in. The two had been inseparable since, and he doubted that Tommy would ever leave Tubbo alone, and vise versa.

Tommy scoffed and stole Tubbo's apple, biting a huge chunk out of the side before handing it back. "No way, unless you wanna go see him hollerin' from his little window about how thankful he is for the country and shit. Or you get invited to that ball they're throwing. But the only lucky bitches invited are assholes who the royal's would gain something from."

"I thought anyone who wanted was allowed to the ball, isn't it the entire kingdom allowed to attend? They've got the whole palace open and the giant market outside, right?" Tubbo countered. 

"I think it's open to everyone. But the one in the palace is specifically a masquerade. It's a tradition, since that's how the Prince's great-something got married. They held a masquerade ball so the heir would fall in love for someone not because of looks, but dancing skills, conversational skills, interest, etc." he cut in, drawing both Tommy and Tubbo's attention to himself.

"What the hell, didn't know you knew about Cearule history big man." Tommy said. He couldn't decide whether or not Tommy had meant that as a compliment or insult, but before he could ask Tubbo replied thoughtfully, "That's kind of romantic. Does the Prince have to wear a mask? Or is he unmasked, since everyone already knows who he is?" 

"He's the only one unmasked." 

"But can't he just ask for a person's name?."

He paused and thought about it for a moment before replying to Tubbo. "He can, but I think he's only allowed to ask after at least one dance. And he only asks if he's interested. They find the name-asking to be very important, I think the late queen danced with almost fifty different people at her ball and she only asked two or three for their names."

"Oh, cool."

The conversation was halted by the rocking of the ship that indicated they'd docked. Sure enough, seconds later the captain's voice could be heard from above, shouting for the crewmates to get off their fatasses and start unloading.

"Well, I hope the Prince falls in love tonight," Tubbo murmured as the three started unloading. 

The sandy blonde man glanced at him with a flicker of mixed emotion in his eyes. "Y'know, Tubbo, I think he will."

***

A crown made of starlight and blue flame was nestled on top of his head.

"Sooo, are you gonna, like, dance with anyone? Or are you just gonna stand there looking awkward and princely for the entire night?" Sapnap drawled from where he stood at George's right hand, slightly behind the Prince.

No, slightly behind the King.

George was still getting used to it, being referred to as King. 

He'd been preparing for this all his life, yet once the crown had settled lightly on his head he realized just how perfectly the crown fit. How he wasn't sure he fit the role of King. 

It had been sudden, the death of his mother the Queen and his rushed coronation. 

Caerule didn't believe in having a lengthy mourning time, they believed once a soul was given back to the earth and had returned to Dyna they too should move on. 

George wasn't so sure if he loved or hated that tradition. 

Sapnap was standing still for once in his life, but George could tell he was dying to go out on the dance floor and woo some girls. In turn, Sapnap could tell his King George might be standing tall and proud, his suit hugging all the right places but something was off. George's jaw was taught as a spring trap, and he had this closed off look to his eyes that worried Sapnap.

George glanced back at Sapnap and rolled his mismatched eyes. "You can go dance if you're bored. And I do not look _awkward._ " George hissed.

Sapnap flashed him a wicked smile, eyes flashing beneath his simple wolf mask, and bowed low before sauntering off to the dance floor, disappearing in seconds among the partygoers.

George bit back a sigh and waved down a serving boy, taking a goblet of wine and throwing it back as regally as he could manage. The urge to get rip-roaring drunk was strong, and it's not like he didn't deserve the release of alcoholic intoxication. 

He rolled his wrist so the wine left in the goblet swirled darkly. When he looked up he started as he locked gazes with a pair bright sea-green eyes. Schooling his features into calm composure, he assessed the green-eyed man before him. 

He was taller than George, with messy dirty-blonde hair that swept across his forehead and was slightly longer, as if he was overdue for a haircut. His green eyes were stark against the simple inky black mask that covered most of his face, leaving only his mouth and jawline were uncovered. He had golden tanned skin George recognized was common among sailors, and he wore a simple black suit and tie that fit him like a glove. He didn't wear any jewelry other than a singular ring on his right thumb, a simple golden band with a tiny emerald in the middle.

George couldn't help but notice how attractive the man was, too. 

"Hello, Prince George." The man greeted him smoothly with a slight bow at the waist. 

Oh _geez_ this man's voice was something else. 

George blinked and shoved away his thoughts. "It's _King_ George, not Prince." He bit out. 

The stranger straightened and slightly tilted his head. "Of course, my apologies."

They had locked eyes again, green against brown and blue. They might have stayed like that for hours, staring at each other. It felt like time stopped for George, looking into this stranger's eyes. They were mesmerizing, the green so vivid George could hardly believe they were real and not something out of a fairy tale. Then again, George's own eyes were something most people did a doubletake upon seeing. One eye was a deep brown that glowed amber in the afternoon sunlight, the other eye a clear cerulean blue.

The stranger was the sort of handsome you don't realize at first, George thought to himself. Then he blinked. Fuck. Why was he thinking this? Stop it. 

He was so lost in trying to strangle his thoughts he barely noticed when the stranger held out a hand in offering. "May I, Your Grace?" those green eyes never left George's, his mouth turning up slightly in a crooked smile that made George feel slightly breathless despite himself.

"You- what?" George fumbled for words, his brain a mess. He almost regretted downing that goblet of wine, Dyna knew he was a lightweight. But this feeling of tipsy weightlessness was too good, and besides, it was his coronation. Who cared? Yet as he failed to understand the stranger's offer until too late he felt the blush of embarrassment staining his cheeks.

The stranger just smirked and bit his lip. "May I have this dance? Unless, of course, you're already taken for tonight." 

George shook his head and took a deep breath, composing himself. When he opened his eyes again he tilted his chin up just so, signaling to a server to come collect his empty goblet before he looked back at the stranger and, after a heartbeat of hesitation, took the stranger's hand.

Murmurs filled the ball room immediately.

_Who is that?_

_Is he a noble from another country?_

_He's quite the looker, ain't he?_

_I wonder if King George will ask his name._

_No way, he'll only ask the name of the person he plans to marry._

_Maybe so, but his mother did ask for three names at her ball._

They spun across the dance floor, the stranger's tall, simple black clothed body contrasting with George's smaller, white-and-blue clad frame. The waltz was a familiar tune that was a common one mostly popular amongst lesser nobles. It was a simple tune, but had emotion weaved into it and sang a song that was different with each person who danced to it. 

George couldn't help but notice how perfectly their hands fit together; his slightly smaller but not engulfed by the stranger's. His fingernails were perfect, and his hands were still soft despite his years of training with various weapons. The green-eyed stranger however, had larger hands that were rough from work and he had chipped fingernails that were clean but had suffered obvious abuse. His hands were tanned, with a few tiny freckles spread out across the back of his hand. Yet the stranger held George's hand gently but firmly, and he guided George through the dance with ease and grace that seemed unfit for someone who was likely not noble born.

Time seemed to be infinite as they whirled and danced together, waltzing between the shimmering gowns that swept across the ivory ballroom floor. The scene was like something out of the stories the Queen had told George when he was a babe, of beautiful boys and charming girls and magical forests and impossible romance. 

It was like George could only draw a singular breath before the music slowed to a stop and George found himself and the stranger standing perfectly still in the middle of the ballroom, the golden chandelier hanging above bathing them in bright golden light.

The stranger smiled a secretive sort of smile before gently untangling his hand from George's and turning to slip away. George barely reeled his thoughts in enough to call out-

"Wait!"

The stranger turned, his green eyes questioning and his hair practically glowing in the light.

George hesitated for a long moment before he finally steeled himself and breathed out in a tone that had a slight hint of urgency in it.

_"What's your name?"_


	2. Over the Garden Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the stranger's name is revealed, the ball is buzzing with rumours and whispers of romance and shock. George retires to his chambers and leans on his balcony, going over the night and grumbling to the moon. Sapnap finds the stranger at the beach and they talk about the night.

_"What's your name?"_

The silence in the ballroom was deafening. 

King George of Caerule stood in the middle of the floor, his eyes bright from both the wine and adrenaline of his dance with the masked stranger, cheeks flushed and his lips slightly parted. 

He looked like he'd fallen in love.

The stranger cocked his head and seemed to contemplate whether or not he would answer George. His evergreen eyes, which George now noticed had a hint of hazel mixed in, were hooded and his lips turned up in a ghost of a smile.

"My name?" He murmured as if to himself. Eyes never leaving George's, the stranger reached out with his right hand and gently brushed a lock of hair out of George's eyes. A shiver ran up George's spine. "You may refer to me as Dream, Your Grace." He smiled as if he'd let George in on some personal secret and turned away, boot heels clicking lightly against the marble floor. 

George stared after him with wide eyes. He reeled backward as his muddled thoughts started whirling again; he felt like the air had been ripped out of his lungs. 

"George- fuck- Your Grace!" Sapnap's voice broke through the silence, and immediately whispers started to spread all around the palace. George would no doubt hear from his Advisory Council about this tomorrow. But at that instant, all George could think about was the masked dancer named Dream. The name fit, George decided. Dream had been like something out of a story, a mirage, a daydream in flesh and blood. He was so very mortal, yet a hum of life and otherworldliness radiated from him. Especially his eyes. George couldn't get those damn eyes out of his head. 

Sapnap's warm hand was on George's arm, his soft brown eyes searching George's. "Hey, _hey,_ you good?"

George snapped out of his stupor, trying to organize his jumbled thoughts, and fought to compose his expression. Maintaining a cool front in public was important to George. He didn't like it when people could read him like an open book. He often wondered if it was because his mother, the late queen, had been so kind and loving. She had always showered her affections on everyone.

He took in a deep breath and shook off Sapnap's hand. He opened his eyes and threw his shoulders back. "I'm fine, Sapnap. I'm going to retire now, and will see you on the morrow." Each word is laced with stone-cold indifference and punctuated by his crisp Caerule accent.

Sapnap stepped back, his mouth set in a thin line. He had been a Royal Guard long enough to know when his King was feeling off, and although the pair bickered like children they had trust in each other.

But as George leveled his gaze at him, Sapnap shoved down his worries as a friend and slipped back into his role as the King's Guard. "Yes, Your Excellency." he kneeled and placed his right fist over his heart, the other arm cross behind his back. 

George watched him for a long moment, then turned and strode away from Sapnap without a word of goodbye.

When he reached the throne- _his_ throne- George turned and addressed the crowd. "Thank you all for attending tonight's ceremonies and ball. I greatly hope you will enjoy the rest of your night, but I fear I must bid you good night. Today has been a day of excitement, and I require my rest in order to complete my duties as King of this fine country. So, farewell, all of you, for tonight. Good fortune- may Dyna bless you all." Then he was gone, only a light air of importance left behind from his presence.

Sapnap stayed on the floor until he could no longer hear George's receding footsteps. Only then he stood, keenly aware of the eyes on him after the King's absence. George's early withdrawal would surely be noted by anyone with half a wit. Sapnap wondered briefly if it was worth trying to shut down the rumours before they could spiral out of control. It was likely too late already, what with the nobles from all the High Families in attendance. 

The Royal Guard sighed and began his search for his troublesome friend that had managed to shake the King of Caerule.

***

Dream's heart was still pounding when he got back to the docks. 

He'd left the palace with whispers trailing at his feet and eyes burning holes into the back of his head, but he'd gotten out alive and physically unscathed. He'd raked a hand through his hair and let out a tiny scream once he was sure he was alone. Dream mentally cursed himself for telling the King his name, even if it wasn't his real one, but rather an alias he'd donned too many times to remember how he even came up with it in the first place.

The waves lapped quietly against the docks at the shoreline, boats gently bobbing up and down as if they too were dancing to the distant music that Dream could still hear echoing from the palace and marketplace.

Reflected on the water was the luminous silver of the full moon, which hung heavy in the inky sky peppered with stars. Dream gazed up at it, his mask still perched on his nose. He carefully reached up and untied the silky black ribbon, letting the ask fall from his face and onto the wooden pier. His skin beneath the mask was sticky from the light layer of sweat he'd worked up doing his waltz with the King and the adrenaline rush that followed.

His dance with the King...

Dream rubbed his hand over his eyes and glared at the Azure Sea. Why did King George have to be so damn attractive? Dream was hardly ever affected by the way a person looked, but when he'd first laid eyes on the King or Caerule tonight his stomach had fluttered just enough that Dream couldn't help but wonder what the King looked like up close.

He'd found out soon enough that the King looked even better up close than he did from a distance. During their waltz, King George had been watching Dream with a sort of unnerving gaze, one that left Dream's pulse racing and his adrenaline pulsing. And the way the King's hand had fit so perfectly in his...Dream let out a frustrated sigh and dropped down onto the pier, quickly unlacing his boots and plunging his feet into the cold seawater in hopes of distracting himself.

Yet he found himself still thinking about the lovely pink blush that had stained King George's cheeks. How the rumour of his mismatched eyes was true, one amber-brown eye that Dream figured must glow near red in the right lighting and one clear cerulean blue that looked as though Dyna herself had crafted it out of the coldest ice and brightest sapphire. And the way that gaze seemed to pierce right into his soul and analyze him in seconds- Dream wasn't sure he'd breathed since he entered the palace. He drew in a long breath, trying to calm his nerves. This was strange, so strange. He'd never felt this way before. 

"You really came." 

Dream didn't bother looking at his best friend as Sapnap came and sat next to him on the pier, letting one leg hang off the side and bending the other to rest his arm on his knee and look out at the Azure Sea.

"I did. I said I would, didn't I?" Dream replied, letting warmth slide into his tone as he greeted Sapnap with a shoulder bump. Dream felt more than saw Sapnap flash him a grin and bump him back, the sheath of his sword clanking lightly against the wood beneath them.

Dream glanced down at the sword and raised an eyebrow. "Impressive, I didn't realize they gave palace guards such flamboyant swords." Indeed, the sword was one of simple finery, with a simple leather-wrapped hilt and what Dream guessed was a tempered steel blade. Yet there were tiny designs etched into the pommel and the sheath alone was a work of art, crafted by the hand of a true master. 

Sapnap shifted, biting his lip with obvious discomfort. "Well, I uh, I'm kind of the Royal Guard. As in, y'know, the one who protects King George."

Dream gave Sapnap the side-eye and smirked. "I figured since you were standing at his right hand on the dais earlier." He laughed out loud as Sapnap's chest puffed slightly with pride, an easy smile turning Sapnap's lips up at the corners. Dream realized how much he'd missed this, the easy friendship Sapnap had always given him. It had been five years since Sapnap had sailed across the Azure Sea to train as a Caerule guard after his years of thieving and underground trading. They had been partners in crime for years, then when Sapnap was caught on that last heist the pair had pulled on a crew of Ceareulians he'd been offered to pay for his offenses by going across the Azure Sea and training to protect the neighboring kingdom. 

Guilt still twisted in Dream's heart from that day. If he'd been smarter, faster, maybe even given himself up instead of letting Sapnap go, they'd still be running wild at the Lindel Bay Area, scamming the wealthy out of a few gold pieces. 

Yet something told Dream even if he'd done something differently or turned himself in they'd still be in the position they were now, but perhaps their roles would be switched.

"So, you're friends with the King now?" Dream asked, trying to keep his tone nonchalant. 

Sapnap looked over at him and grinned. "Yeah, and I saw you dancing with him like an idiot." he laughed when Dream shot him a dark look. 

"You're the one who told me to come, Sapnap."

"Well, I didn't word it quite like _that,_ " Dream swiftly punched the side of Sapnap's arm, causing him to yelp and scoot away from Dream. "Ow, geez. You should come practice at the palace tomorrow, some of the younger guards need a thrashing and I'm probably going to be busy for a while doing Royal Guard stuff," 

Dream hung his head back and looked up at the stars. "Maybe. Are outsiders even allowed?" 

Sapnap picked at his teeth with his finger. "Not strictly but I'm high up enough I can get you in. You're not planning on assassinating Georgie now are you?" He grinned when Dream flipped him off and rubbed the hilt of his sword with his thumb. "You should come, though. The food is better, anyway."

Dream flopped back onto his back and stretched his arms above his head. "Will the King be there?" He asked in just above a whisper. 

"Huh?" 

"Nothing, Sapnap." They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Dream said, "Y'know, maybe I will come to the castle tomorrow. I haven't fought anyone from Caerule's trained guards before." 

"Hell yeah, thanks buddy,"

"No problem,"

***

"You ever thought what it'd be like to just blow this entire country to smithereens?"

George's Arson Master and close friend was a man named Wilbur of whom was barely older than the King at the age of 25. He was also likely bordering on insanity, but George preferred to overlook that part of Wilbur's personality. He was stretched out like a cat on George's settee near the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up two out of the four walls in George's office. Bathed in the early afternoon sunlight, Wilbur looked like a high noble with his attractive features and thick brown hair that swept low in front of his eyes.

George rolled his eyes at Wilbur, well accustomed to the Arson Master's rather worrying thought process and questions. Turning his attention back to the documents in front of him, George tried in vain to force himself to pay attention to the proposals. Instead, he found his thoughts wandering back to the night before, back to the dance with Dream. Letting out a frustrated sigh, George threw down the papers and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He'd never get anything done at this rate, and his head was still pounding from all the alcohol he'd consumed after retiring the previous night. He'd stayed up late nursing an entire decanter of the strongest liquor he'd found in his stash, watching the proceedings of the ball from his balcony, commenting every so often to the moon and birds about things he saw and thought.

He almost wished he'd showed some restraint and just gone to bed. _Almost._

"Aww, is pwoor wittle bwaby Georgie not liking his kingly dwuties? Boohoo," Wilbur teased from where he lounged. 

George shot him a dark look as he pushed himself up from his seat. He'd take a turn around the castle, maybe snag some lunch from the kitchens before his meeting later that afternoon with his Advisory Council.

He was dressed casually today in a simple dusty-green button down and brown trousers with a thin black belt and his goggles perched on his forehead. A diamond stud in each ear was the only jewelry he'd chosen this morning, and his hands were gloveless. 

Yet despite being dressed like a slightly more wealthy commoner, George still radiated a vibe one could only describe as royal.

"Don't touch my desk," was all George offered in farewell before he made his way down the hall and turned left toward the training grounds. He'd spent most of his childhood hiding from his instructors, stealing away to care for the horses in the stable, or reading in the gardens.

He regretted not spending more time in the training yard. Weapon mastery was vital to learn and while George wasn't at all a novice at swordplay, he was by no means a master. He'd preferred long-range weapons as a teen, often selecting a bow and arrow or a crossbow for his arsenal, and had become one of the best archers in the kingdom, next to a younger man from Lindel named Karl who often reminded George of an enthusiastic dog. 

George hadn't seen Karl since he'd been dispatched to the upper northwest part of the continent to help train the archers there. 

Now he passed by the archery ranges, watching the knights-in-training draw back their longbows and fire three arrows in rapid succession. The familiar sound of arrowheads thudding into their targets was a comforting one. George debated if it was worth disrupting the practice to fire a few shots himself, but decided against it. 

He neared the main training yard and with each step the sound of steel on steel became louder and clearer. George rounded the corner and stopped abruptly when he saw the match taking place. 

A young boy who hadn't yet quite grown into his features was panting heavily as he clumsily deflected his opponent's sword. The boy was shirtless and sweat ran down his toned chest as he tried to keep up with the attacker. But the boy wasn't why George had stopped and watched the fight with wide, disbelieving eyes.

The boy's opponent was a tall, sandy-blonde man in a black sleeveless turtleneck that clung to him like a second skin. His shaggy hair was tied back with a soft leather strip into a tiny ponytail. His feet were bare and his black pants were rolled up at the bottom. He wore black fingerless gloves that made George realize he might be attracted to hands. His face was the sort of face that looked trustworthy, his lips turned up in an open-mouthed smile and a smattering of freckles that seemed to hover just above his skin. And his eyes....they were bright evergreen with a hint of hazel that danced with laughter and mischief. 

George could hardly breathe as he watched Dream easily disarm the young knight and brutally slam the boy into the ground, his sword centimeters away from the knight's fleshy throat.

"Yeah! Beat his ass!" A loud shout drew George's attention away from Dream and he laid his eyes on two boys that he'd never seen before in his life. The one shouting encouragement was the taller of the pair; he wore a raggedy red shirt and brown overalls with one strap hanging off his shoulder and a wooden practice sword in his hand. The other boy was shorter than George and had a babyish sort of face that shone with wholesome goodness but his eyes held a sort of understanding and intelligence that made George wary. 

"Surrender," Dream's voice was low and slightly breathless as he spoke, sending shivers running up George's spine despite the heat of midday. He'd never get that voice out of his head, George thought to himself. He'd heard it but a few times and already his heart and mind were addicted to the sound. 

The knight tapped the ground three times and laid back on the ground when Dream pulled his sword back, chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. "Good...job...outsider,"

Dream smirked good-naturedly and offered the knight a flask of water he'd been thrown by the clever-eyed boy. 

"C'mon Tubbo, I'll buy you a new shirt if you beat me. Best out of three," the red-shirt boy challenged his friend, who George now knew was named Tubbo. 

"I feel like you should be buying yourself a new shirt instead of buying me a new one," Tubbo answered ruefully but hopped off the wooden fence that separated the weapon racks from the training pit and swung his wooden sword experimentally, flexing his wrists.

"What Tommy should do is _wash_ the shirt he has on now." Dream snickered as he retreated to lean against the fence to watch the duel. 

"Aw shut up," Tommy bared his teeth teasingly at Tubbo, who grinned back and slid into a fighting stance. 

But George couldn't take his eyes off Dream even as the two boys started dueling with terrifying smoothness and familiarity. Dream had one arm resting against the top of the fence, the other hand holding a water flask he bought up to his lips every few minutes to take a drink from. George's eyes wandered up and down Dream's arms, taking in the patchwork of scars and freckles and tanned skin. Letting his gaze flit upward, George studied Dream's unmasked face, memorizing every detail he could. He'd been able to tell Dream was well built and beautiful from their dance the night prior, but now that Dream was in tight fitting top and his arms completely bare with loose pants and no mask, George could tell just how breathtakingly attractive the blonde man was. 

As if he'd felt the King's eyes on him, Dream glanced up and locked eyes with George, his green eyes widening almost imperceptibly as he caught George staring at him. A teasing grin tugged at the corner's of Dream's lips, making George flush and quickly turn away, walking briskly back toward his office. 

What in Dyna's name was Dream doing at the castle?

***

That night George sat leaning against his balcony and debated if it was worth getting drunk again.

On the bright side, the meeting that afternoon had gone well and he'd been able to persuade the Advisory Council to lessen the taxes on the commoners and instead increase taxes on the High Families. He'd considered pushing the topic of establishing more institutions available to the public to better educate the youth, but decided to take this win and work with what he had now. He'd push them on education later. 

But for now he sighed heavily and leaned against the stone balcony that had ivy creeping up the sides and tiny spiderweb cracks at the corners.

His thoughts drifted back to earlier that afternoon, settling on the fleeting glance of Dream. He grumbled to himself as he remembered those sharp eyes that seemed to watch him wherever he went now. This had never happened to him before, this feeling of itchiness in his heart. Like his heart was straining to be closer to Dream, to unravel every secret written into his soul.

"Why the fuck is that stupid shit all I can think about? Dammit, Dream." George hissed and glared at the moon with a hateful expression. 

"Well, the fact I'm so pretty might be a good reason," 

George's head whipped to the side so fast he felt like he'd cricked something but every thought eddied out of his head when he saw Dream perched on the low castle wall just a few feet away, one hand raised in a flirtatious wave. 

Dream grinned. "Hey there, King."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so sorry for this being a day late, I was busy last night with homework and the BTS comeback haha. Thank you for all the support and almost over 300 hits, that's actually crazy :0 I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I really appreciate the comments :)) Have a great day and I'll try and update son


	3. Late Night Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing Dream perched on the garden wall nearly gave George a heart attack, but he quickly recovered and after some teasing they end up talking late into the night, until Dream offers to sneak George out of the castle and into the famous night market Caerule, which George has never visited.

Dream bit back a laugh as he watched the King of Caerule stumble backward, his mouth hanging open in shock and his eyes wide as saucers. 

"H-how did you get up there?" King George squeaked and gestured wildly at the garden wall. Dream smiled crookedly and shrugged his shoulders in a show of nonchalance. 

"I just, y'know, climbed. It's good for your biceps." Dream's eyes sparkled with laughter as George regained his composure and narrowed his mismatched eyes at Dream in annoyance. Dream leaned forward and peered down at the garden below George's private balcony. Dark blue roses grew in perfect stone ovals, complemented by light cream roses spread along the sides and vines creeping up the walls. Not a very royal garden, Dream thought to himself. The botanical gardens in Lindel were bursting with hundreds of different plants that flourished despite the tropical storms that often raged across the coast. "Interesting plant scheme you got there, King," Dream commented as he straightened back up, meeting George's gaze once more.

"Fuck off," George said in such an informal way that Dream wheezed a quick laugh before he could catch himself. George hadn't moved from where he'd retreated to away from the edge of the balcony, his back almost inside his chambers where Dream could just discern the outline of a massive bed and wardrobe. Dream leaned back, palms flat against the top of the stone wall. He was lower than George, so he had to tilt his head up to face the King. He was dressed plainly in the same clothes as earlier, with the addition of a billowy short-sleeved dark green shirt over the black turtleneck and a knife sheathed against his thigh.

"Aren't you going to invite me in? Isn't it palace protocol to be courteous to your guests, King?" Dream drawled teasingly, hoping to make the King blush. He wasn't sure why he wanted to see the light red stain spread across George's cheeks, but he couldn't resist the urge to flirt and provoke the King of Caerule even if he barely knew him. Something about the way the King got flustered at his jokes that were just so _normal_ and un-kingly made Dream's heart race and his brain latch on to like a drug. 

George glared at Dream and waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Court protocol doesn't apply to when strangers show up outside my bedroom window in the middle of the night like some sort of assassin." the King shot back pointedly. Dream laughed aloud at that and ran a hand through his hair. "Now why would I try to assassinate you, King? I'd be benefited more by taking out the royal siblings from Lindel currently residing in the western wing of the castle," 

George shook his head in irritation even as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The eye of some long-slumbering beast cracked open inside of Dream at that shadow of a smile. 

"And I'm a little hurt you think of me as a stranger. I thought we had moved past that to at least friends after your ball. After all, you did ask for my name." Dream quipped. His eyes glowed with green fire in the moonlight as George blushed and crossed his arms. 

"We're not _friends_ , and it's unhealthy to delude yourself so." George held his chin high in a show of royal arrogance and pride, but Dream saw right through it. The King was ruffled as a baby bird after it's first flight. Dream tilted his head so his hair fell to the side, a smile toying with his lips. "I don't think I deluded myself into catching you watching me earlier today, King." 

He was walking a thin line between subtle teasing and outright flirting, but Dream's mouth had stopped obeying his mind and rather turned to his heart for prompting. 

George opened and closed his mouth several times before finally replying, "Fine. I'll consider you a shady acquaintance. Happy?" He shook his head in mock exasperation. Dream grinned and bought his hands forward to cradle his chin and rested his elbows on his knees. "I am happy. I'm talking to you, King." 

The beast inside Dream poked it's head up as George flushed a sweet cherry red.

"Why do you call me that?" George asked suddenly, changing the subject. Dream blinked questioningly at George. "Why do you call me 'King'?"

Dream's brow furrowed in mild confusion. "That's your title, isn't it?" 

George just shrugged and tugged at the cuff of his sleeve. "Well, yeah. But you say it like...like...I don't know you just say it strangely!" George fidgeted and strode back up to the edge of the balcony, placing his hands on the smooth stone and leaning slightly forward as if he were going to climb up and jump over the small gap onto the garden wall. Dream straightened his spine and let his hands fall away from his face as the King of Caerule's eyes seemed to pierce right into Dream's soul, sending a thrill running down Dream's spine. "What would you rather I called you?" Dream asked breathlessly. 

George bit his lip and carefully collected himself before he answered with steel-like certainty. "George. Just George." 

Dream's heart beat loud in his chest and his eyes blazed with an emotion George couldn't quite place.

"That's very unceremonious of you, Ki-George." Dream mused with a vague sense of deeper insinuation lacing every word. 

George didn't bother to respond. He watched Dream with an inscrutable gaze that frustrated Dream. He wanted to be able to read George's looks and body language and be attuned to how he thought. Was that weird? Probably. He could never say something like this out loud, not ever. This feeling of unsettling in his chest was new and it felt peculiar in the way that all foreign things are peculiar at first.

"Have you tried the fried fish down at the bay area's night market, George?" Dream asked abruptly. He had eaten the fish he was referring to just an hour before while contemplating how exactly he'd scale the castle walls and talk to George.

George leaned forward on his elbows and shook his head. "I've never visited the night market," he confessed. "Mother would go all the time but my Father insisted on me staying behind and attending to my studies." 

Dream's smile had faded and was replaced by a look of interest and quiet contemplation. "It's very lively, you can see it from here. I went out both last night and today for hours and I haven't seen half of what the market has to offer." 

"That sounds...exciting," George murmured. Dream suddenly wondered how often the King had any excitement in his life. Sure, his coronation and duties had to be exciting in the simplest terms, but what about exciting as in fun or thrilling. He couldn't have had much, stuffed up in his castle all day. Dream felt saddened inside at the thought of a person like George not being able to go out and enjoy their kingdom. 

"You should see it sometime," Dream said. George nodded absently, his eyes hundreds of miles away, lost in memories Dream knew nothing of. They sat like that in silence for a long moment, wind ruffling their hair. Dream watched George carefully, trying to read the small details in his expression. George's eyes eventually refocused, landing on Dream's and staying there. Shifting so his chin was propped up by his hand, George asked slowly, "When did you arrive in Caerule? You don't sound like you're from around here,"

Dream leaned forward and mirrored George's position, resting his chin in his palm. "I'm from Lindel. Arrived three days ago on a shipment barge from the southeast coast of Lindel."

George nodded thoughtfully. "So you're a sailor,"

Dream laughed lightly, shaking his head. George peered at him, confused. "I'm not a sailor." Dream stated, swallowing a wheeze at George's bemused expression. "I just came on a cargo boat because a favour I was owed by the captain." Dream explained. "Tommy and Tubbo, they're sailors. Boatkids, I guess." 

George recalled the names belonged to the two boys that had been in the sparring yard earlier that day. "They seem kind of young to be your friends." George observed. They had looked young, especially Tubbo. With his dark hair, large eyes, and short frame George guessed the boy was likely fourteen or fifteen, the blond one probably fifteen or sixteen. 

Dream laughed again, an easygoing sound of amusement that made George feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

"They are pretty young, I guess. Tommy turned sixteen a few months ago, Tubbo's turning seventeen this December." Dream picked at his fingernails without taking his attention off of George.

So the dark haired one was younger. He was the one with the intelligent eyes and disquieting air of innocence. George was fairly surprised by this; Tommy had been much taller than Tubbo and more abrasive with the gangly sort of look to him that older teenagers had before they grew into their bodies. 

"Wait, how old are you, Dream?" George asked. He figured the sandy-blonde was at least twenty-three, or maybe even older than George. 

But again Dream surprised George by casually admitting he was only twenty-one. "No way." George said, genuinely taken aback. 

Dream wheezed and shook his head. "I am, I am! I promise I am,"

George smiled at Dream for the first time that night, his eyes sparkling with warm laughter. 

Dream felt like he'd been punched in the gut. 

They stared at each other for what felt like eternity before George's smile slipped and he blushed awkwardly. 

"Do that again," Dream breathed before he could stop himself. He resisted the urge to clap his hand over his mouth, instead trying to stop himself from blushing at his own words. 

George, on the other hand, blushed an even redder hue, shoulders going stiff. "What, smile? Don't be weird, Dream."

Dream rolled his eyes and shook his head, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes. It was untied now, falling in soft layers around his face and down the back of his neck. In the moonlight it looked more silver-brown than blonde, the deeper tones becoming more pronounced.

"Your hair-" George started without thinking, his mouth working faster than his brain. Dream caught his words and brushed his hair away form his face. He ran a hand through it, messing it up even more than it already was. "What? Are you saying I need a haircut?" 

George shook his head mutely, not sure if he could form words. The simple act of Dream so casually disheveling his hair had made George's mouth go dry, his heart skipping a beat. _Dyna's tits, he hardly knew this man, why was he acting like a lovesick idiot?_ George cursed himself internally, averting his eyes and instead found a sudden interest in the spiderweb cracks across his stone balcony.

"How old is this castle?" Dream asked, hoping to start a conversation. George ran his hand across one of the cracks as if his touch would smooth it out. 

"This wing of the castle has been around for a long time, I think maybe five hundred years? The western wing was remodeled recently, and it's only been part of the castle for a hundred years. Grandfather expanded in hopes of the castle being more open to foreigners." _and to show off the ridiculous wealth of Caerule._

"Ooh, that's cool. Do you guys have catacombs beneath the castle?" Dream wondered aloud. Back in Lindel the main castle in the capital was well known for it's labyrinth of catacombs winding beneath the castle and throughout the city itself, made hundreds of years before and continued by secret royal builders whose sole purpose was to keep the catacombs as functionable as possible and keep expanding.

George thought about it for a moment, but shook his head. "We have certain rooms that are connected by hidden corridors, but nothing like what you have in Lindel." George blinked and bit his lip. "I shouldn't have told you that,"

Dream just smiled and swung his legs like a child. "I already told you, George, I'm not here to kill you,"

"That's something an assassin here to kill me would say to gain my trust," George shot back without missing a beat.

Dream just shrugged, fighting a yawn. It was late and he'd been sparring with the palace guards for hours that morning and late into the afternoon. Then he'd barely gotten dinner at the docks before he'd returned to the palace and scaled the walls like a spider at twilight. It was likely past midnight; the full silver moon had started to make her descent in the black night sky littered with stars. 

Below them the marketplace was still thriving, music floating up to them on a late night breeze. The tune was unfamiliar to Dream, but from the way George's head was tilted slightly toward where the sound was originating from and the soft glow in his eyes, Dream knew the waltz must hold some place in the King's heart. Fragrant scents of baked goods and mouth-watering meats made Dream's stomach growl in complaint. Looking down at the market Dream could see people dancing in one of the many smaller squares, fast moving bodies that easily pranced along with the music the citizens of Caerule's capital had likely heard and danced to hundreds of times before. He wondered briefly if George had ever participated in one of the market dances, where even dirty street children with no status were welcome.

All of a sudden, Dream had the most perfect idea.

"George, _George._ " 

The King snapped his gaze back to Dream's at the urgency in Dream's voice, and found himself startled by the brightness in Dream's emerald eyes. 

"What, what?" George stumbled over his words.

"Let's go down to the market, George. Let's go dance with your kingdom!"

***

For a moment, George almost said yes.

The marketplace was inviting and so full of life; George could feel his heart screaming at him to grab a cloak and _go_ , but his mind fought back, arguing that too many people could recognize them, he had duties to attend to, it was too late in the night, he simply could not go. 

"I-"

"Before you say no, just think about it. Please," Dream interrupted him, his eyes glowing with a silent plea. 

It would only be for a little while...

George's heart begged him to agree, to have some fun, to choose what he got to do. 

It would be so nice to get out of the castle for a little while and be able to see the kingdom he loved so dearly but had been sheltered from all his life. To feel people around him who didn't care about wealth or power, but lived in a moment of song and dance.

"Dream..." George's eyes were tired and his body felt heavy as he slowly shook his head. "I-...I can't."

Dream reached out a hand as if to touch George's regretful face, but froze and drew his hand back to his chest in resignation. He looked more disappointed than surprised that George had declined. "Okay, George. Okay," he sighed, eyes dulling to a darker hazel-green. Dream pushed his palms against the garden wall, snapping his legs up and back underneath him so he was balancing on his heels. The agility and smoothness of the movement surprised George. It was almost like Dream was used to climbing up walls and sneaking into places he shouldn't be. Paired with the display of effortless fighting George had witnessed earlier, George became more intrigued by the stranger from across the Azure Sea.

"What did you do? Back in Lindel, I mean." George asked suddenly. He was trying to keep Dream here, he realized. He was enjoying talking to the tall idiot more than he'd like to admit, and even his stubborn pride relented just enough for him to ask a question. 

Dream glanced up, his eyes shifting with unspoken emotions. He seemed to bite back a smile, making George wonder if he might rather not know. "I was an...artist," Dream replied carefully, his eyes glowing again with laughter. 

George rolled his eyes. "What, don't tell me you paint fine art," the thought of the restless sandy-blonde man holding a paintbrush and painting naked bodies on a giant canvas with patience and precision made George want to laugh. 

Dream wheezed and shook his head. "Nooo. Something more along the lines of, ah, con-art."

George raised an eyebrow. "So you're a thief,"

"Only in the loosest definition of the term 'thief'." Dream replied lightly. Before George could say anything else, Dream blinked at something behind George, green darkening into hazel and his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. 

"I should go." Dream said, his voice strange. 

George felt his heart sink a little bit at those words, but he forced himself to shove that feeling away. It made no sense and it's not like Dream could have stayed for much longer anyway, dawn was soon coming and with it George had to be somewhat rested before he broke his fast with the visiting Prince and Princess of Lindel.

As if reading his thoughts, Dream inclined his head in a small bow, his features serious. "Be careful with the Lindel royals. They may have a crest of a boar but their tongues are those of basilisks." With that, Dream turned and launched himself silently off the garden wall and disappeared from sight. George strained his ears to catch a thud or even a soft pattering of feet against stone, but no sound echoed from where Dream had dropped.

George rocked back on his heels, letting his shoulders relax and his eyes unfocus from the real world. His thoughts whirled from Dream's warning and their talk. Now that he was alone he suddenly shivered, feeling the chill of early autumn's arrival through his thin shirt.

Yet he stayed outside for a long time afterward, staring at the spot where the man he'd just met yet couldn't seem to get off his mind had sat and smirked and teased him for hours.

***

Dream knew he hadn't imagined the shadow that flitted across the palace roof. 

He ran as quietly as possible along the edge of the wall, keeping low in case anyone happened to be watching. He wasn't used to this castle, but after losing his footing a few times he'd grown more attentive to where he stepped. 

His kept his eyes peeled in hopes of catching site of the figure again, eyes roving over every inch of the castle. He'd been running for a while now, circling the entire castle and retracing his steps from earlier. He was tired and out of breath, but he couldn't help but continue. Whoever had been on the rooftop had heard his conversation with George and would likely report to whoever they were working for. Suddenly Dream stopped, a thought hitting him. Maybe it wasn't a servant of another person, but rather someone already in the castle. 

Doubling back, he focused on the western wing of the castle where he knew the Lindel royals were residing. He was well aware of the cruelty Lindel's upper society had, which originated from the royal family.

The heirs to the throne were twin siblings with soft pink hair and sharp eyes that saw everything. The boy was often referred to as 'The Blade', for rumours believed that he was the weapon the royal family wielded to cut down their enemies like stalks of wheat. The girl was hardly ever seen in public, but those at court whispered of her cold beauty and sharp tongue that was cruel to all those she believed inferior.

Dream absolutely despised the idea of the passionless royals getting close to George. 

He stopped at the edge of the wall, squatting and letting his hands fall inbetween his legs and his elbows rest on his thighs. he stared hard at the western wing, straining his eyes to make out anything in the darkness. 

Dawn was fast approaching, the first of the sun's golden rays peaking over Dream's shoulders. He had to leave soon or he'd be caught. With one last glance at the western walls, he turned back and leaped agile as a cat off the wall, letting his toes hit the ground first, knees going soft as he heels touched the ground to absorb the impact.

He was completely worn out by the time he reached the docks, stumbling back to his hammock in the ship's underbelly and barely kicking off his boots before closing his eyes and letting himself relax into welcoming darkness. His head barely hit his pillow before he was completely knocked out. 

"Geez, where d'you think he's been all night?" Tommy remarked groggily to Tubbo as he sat up in his hammock. Tubbo, who was already awake, shrugged. "Maybe he was talking to the King? I heard at the market that he'd danced with King George. Not that anyone here knows his name, they keep referring to him as 'The Masked Dancer'. It's rather ridiculous,"

Tommy laughed loudly, earning him a shoe to the face from one of the other crew members. "Yo, can you two shut the fuck up?" 

"Fuck you, Alex," Tommy yelped as another shoe launched at him from Alex's cot. "It is way too early for you idiots to be yelling," Quackity groaned from the floor. Dark haired and short, with a larger personality than the ship could handle, Alex 'Quackity' was a close friend of Dream, Tubbo, and Tommy's.

"Wherever he's been, he sure looks like he had a good time," Tubbo observed quietly. Tommy and Quackity stopped their bickering, turning to scrutinize Dream themselves.

Sure enough, both were surprised to find a light blush and faint smile were gracing Dream's face even in sleep, his expression peaceful if not happy.

"Aw don't tell me the dick's gone and fallen in love with someone," Tommy complained, flopping back down into his hammock and throwing an arm over his eyes. 

"I don't think it's just anyone. I think he's fallen for the King," Tubbo declared as he laced up his boots. 

The trio continued discussing the possible romance between Dream and George, unaware that Dream had been awoken by Tommy's shouting and was listening to them argue with a laugh in his throat.

But then again, were they wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, Aspen here! thank you guys for 400+ views that literally so insane I never thought I'd get more than 25 hits if ima be dead honest LOL  
> this chapter is a little bit boring but I hope you enjoyed and I promise to update faster and write better now that I'm on break :D


	4. Mindless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George breaks his fast with the Lindel royals, who he realizes quickly are after something far more than a meal together. But as the meal progresses, George finds his thoughts wandering back to Dream. Dream continues dueling with the palace guards, but is interrupted by the same man haunting his thoughts.

George was sleep deprived and hungry when he strode into the dining hall the next morning. Er, the next midday. 

"His Majesty, King George of Caerule," the knight at the entrance to the hall announced hastily, his voice echoing in the high ceilinged room. 

The Lindel royals were already seated at the breakfast table, heaps of food stacked on their plates. They watched George as his boots thudded quietly against the carpeted floor, a simple golden circlet accented with a small sapphire rested on his brow. He was dressed more fancily for the day; rich dark blue with lace detailing and ruffles adorned his torso and was tucked into black pants that hugged his every curve, rings with sparkling gemstones wrapped around his fingers and diamonds dripping from his ears. He'd dressed up specifically for this breakfast and the luncheon he would have later, along with the court meeting later in the throne room. He _radiated_ regality.

"Good morning," George greeted the Lindel royals. He dipped his head briefly as he sat down, the Lindel royals returning the gesture readily. 

Servants were instantly there at George's side, setting down platters and goblets of his usual meal. Toast and an omelet with oatmeal and assorted drinks, with side dishes of fruits and baked delicacies. He took a sip of water and leveled his gaze at the Lindel royals. They were going to eat him under the table, he thought drily to himself. Lindels were always eating, that was a joke amongst the native Caeruleans. Despite their obvious satisfaction in the food, George knew he had to be courteous and offer something else. It was both a kind gesture and a reminder they were in his kingdom, his castle.

"Are you enjoying the spread? I can request the kitchens arrange for you to eat something else, perhaps something more customary in Lindel?" George said, trying to analyze what the royals were thinking. 

"No, thank you. We're fine with this." the princess replied, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. 

Pink, long-haired twins that wore crowns forged from sun-ore and seemed to glow a soft golden hue, like a shaft of afternoon sunlight was always shining against their crowns. Red rubies were studded around the crown, the largest a blood-ruby that gleamed from the very middle of the crown. The royals were both dressed in a plain white tunic and black pants, a rich red sash tied at their waists and black boots with red detailing and heels that resembled boar feet. The Princess of Lindel, better known as "Wild Boar" or "Pierce" for her prowess on the hunt and wildness to her that was left untamed throughout her childhood, had a belt that held dozens of empty vials and a small satchel tied around her waist along with an empty dagger sheath. The Prince of Lindel, better known as "TechnoBlade" or "The Blade" for the rumours of him being the blade that the royal family wielded with little remorse, had no empty sheaths strapped to him but George was well aware of The Blades famous skill with the axe and sword. 

Both twins were watching George with those unnerving reddish-brown eyes that were just as intense as Dream's but in a completely different way. 

Overall, they were the most intimidating people George had ever met, even amongst royals.

George chewed thoughtfully on a piece of toast as the Lindel royal's eyes turned back to their food. 

"How long will you be staying in Lindel?" George questioned in hopes of starting a conversation. Not because he wanted to talk to the royals, but rather to glean information. The House of Blood was a new royal line in Lindel, and Lindel itself was a new kingdom. Hardly anyone had connections with the royal family, except the House of Hypnos which was an old Lindel house that was rumoured to have forfeited their claim to the throne in favour of the House of Blood taking up the crown instead.

"We don't have a set schedule as of current, but I would hope to return home by late autumn, for high winter is harsh on the seas." The Blade answered this time, his tone a cool flat monotone that gave away no emotion. George suppressed a shiver when he realized the twin's canine teeth were larger and more pointed than normal, almost like miniature tusks. 

"I hope you enjoy all that Caerule has to offer during your stay. If there is anything we can do to make you more comfortable, please notify a servant." George stated graciously. 

The twins exchanged a glance, a silent conversation moving between the two. The princess laid her hands flat against the dark oak table. She levelled a flat look at George, who tried to ignore the shiver of unease that ran down his spine.

"King George," Pierce started, her eyes flashing a deep red, "I'm aware that you are of marrying age, yes?" 

The question caught George off guard; he'd expected her to say something more along the lines of something wrong with the twin's accommodations or politics not involving marriage. 

It took him a moment to realize she was awaiting an answer. "I am, yes." 

The Blade spoke this time, "Are you currently looking for a marriage in-between two kingdoms for an alliance or joining of two kingdoms? Many rulers in the north are doing this, and I've heard those Tundra Wolves are uniting their separate clans and forming a single monarchy." The Tundra Wolves were a race that lived in an island off the coast of Lindel, and were notorious for their dabbling in magic and affinity to fauna. Some rumoured that Tundra Wolves could shapeshift and were descended from some sort of deity. George had never believed these rumours, it was all likely fake and the people there were just as normal and magicless as he was. 

But the allying of the clans and kingdoms was interesting. He'd heard that Farylan and Scine had married their heirs in alliance and were now calling themselves The Farscyne Federation. But that was too far north for it to affect Caerule, he hadn't bothered to pay attention to it. The world really is changing...George mused.

"I am not currently looking for a partner on the throne, but I have not rejected that option," George said carefully. He felt like he was walking on thin ice with two wild boars staring him down, one misstep and he'd be plunged into the dark water swirling beneath his feet or one wrong word and the wild boars would charge at him. He had to be diligent here, attentive to every syllable.

Maybe he was overreacting- just because some of the foreign courts he'd dealt with before were two faced snakes didn't mean the Lindel royals were too.

But something in his gut told him to watch his step.

"Interesting." The Blade replied simply, picking up his fork again and spearing a slice of ham. Pierce mirrored his movements, dabbing at her mouth after chewing the bite.

They sat in strained silence for the rest of the meal, the only conversation being the clinking of silverware and occasional swish of a maid's skirts.

Yet despite the awful silence, George's thoughts drifted to the past night and the green-eyed demon that haunted his mind.

***

Halfway across the city, Dream was dealing with his own problems over late breakfast.

"Tommy, no," Dream brandished his fork at the hyper blonde in self defense and warning. "there's no way we'll be able to smuggle that kid on the ship,"

Tommy and Tubbo had found some gangly kid named Ranboo stealing gold from a neighboring ship and aided the thief in his escape. They, of course, immediately came to Dream and begged him to let Ranboo stay. 

Dream glanced at the tall kid, _Dyna's tits this child was taller than him,_ and was amused to find the lanky boy shifting awkwardly, looking as out of place as physically possible. 

He sighed, refusing to meet Tubbo's fierce stare. "C'mon Dream, he's like us, let's keep him!" Tommy pushed, obviously not over the adrenaline rush of the escape the three had pulled off. The blonde was practically humming with energy. 

Dream snorted at Tommy's pleads. It was like they were adopting a stray dog they'd found on the streets. 

"No strays, you know the rules." Dream replied. It wasn't anything against Ranboo, just that there was no way they were smuggling this 6' something very noticeable kid onto the ship and getting him back to Lindel without the captain noticing.

To be fair, Ranboo would fit in with them. He was tall and had that scruffy look about him that made Dream instantly want to feed the kid some food and lend him a shirt, and Ranboo just had an aura of kindness and laughter that fit with Tommy and Tubbo's.

"Dream, let's be logical, we can take him in and the captain won't notice him if we keep him around the ship for a little bit and just act like he's been here this entire time," Tubbo reasoned. 

"Yeah! See, Tubbo wants him to stay too," Tommy cut in. Both boys had made their eyes all puppy-like and were begging him silently to allow it. Dream rolled his eyes and stuck a piece of toast in his mouth before heaving himself to his feet. He slung his soft leather satchel over his shoulder and waved a two fingered wave back at them.

"Get him to work in the lower deck, I'm pretty sure the floors need to be mopped and the empty crates need to be stacked by the end of today. I'm heading out," Dream didn't bother looking back as he climbed out of the cabin, jumping off the ship and landing smoothly on the docks. He heard the trio of boys whooping and talking energetically behind him, and he wondered briefly if he should have set some boundaries before he left. Whatever, it wasn't his job to monitor them even if they were like his siblings. He felt responsible for them, sure, and they came to him whenever they needed or wanted something, but they did their own thing for the most part.

Dream meandered casually through the docks, heading for the alleyways connecting the warf to the inner city. He pulled himself up onto one of the low rooftops, climbing up and moving towards the castle, where he was supposed to help train more of the guards today. 

It took him almost an hour of leaping from rooftop to rooftop to get to the palace's servant entrance, a little doorway that most people were unaware of that lead straight to the training grounds and servant housing.

By the time Dream reached the training pits he was sweating profusely from the hot midday sun and his shirt was sticking uncomfortably to his back. He bought the shirt up and over his head, shoving it into his satchel as he approached the pits. It was one of those early autumn days that refused to let go of summer, trying to trap in the heat and sun even as the changing of seasons started to shift the colours of the leaves.

"Hey, buddy," Sapnap called from where he was disarming one of the guards with two well placed hits. Several guards stood to the side, leaning against the wooden fence that separated the different pits. One of them Dream recognized from the other day, the guard seemed to recognize Dream too and lifted a hand in greeting. He felt their eyes taking in his chest, which was a sweaty mess of tanned skin, muscle, and scars. His back had two large scars that made one guard wince, another stepping back slightly away from Dream. It didn't bother Dream as much as it should have, they way those two guards reacted. It's not like the scars made his torso ugly, if anything it made him more attractive. It was just how the scars sang of silent torture that Dream knew some people had also experienced.

"Hey," Dream greeted them as he dumped his bag to the side and slid on his fingerless gloves, wrapping his wrists with soft white material. "let's start with hand-to-hand today, and move on to swordplay later?" Dream proposed. The guards gathered nodded and one of them moved to the second pit, gesturing for Dream to follow.

Dream complied, tripping lightly over. He glanced up at the palace, squinting to fend off the sun. He could see servants bustling about on the other side of the windows, maids with arms full of freshly ironed laundry and butlers carrying stacks of papers. Several people who were dressed too finely to be servants sat in one of the towers closest to the training grounds, their faces just barely turned away so Dream couldn't recognize them. Something about them unnerved Dream, like he should know who they were. 

There were three people seated in the window and possibly one more out of sight if their hand gestures and head turning were any clues. Two of the people had long hair that was an unsual shade of reddish-pink and wore two golden crowns that looked like gold dipped in liquid sunlight. 

Wait, golden crowns. Pink hair. Two of them. 

Dream stopped in his tracks when he realized the Lindel twins were sitting just above him, sipping tea. 

It wasn't a secret that he didn't like the twin heirs, with their brutal ways and way of beating everyone they ever fought with a kiss of cold steel. People in Lindel rumoured that their hair used to be a light white-brown but had been stained that pink-red colour from all the blood that stained the royal family's hands.

Dream had always found the story to be stupid, because how could blood stain their hair that way? 

But now as he peered at the royals he couldn't help but think about that story and scrutinize the darker shades of the twin's hair. Was it just because of the shadows and lighting or did their darker strands of hair look a little bit too much like washed blood stains?

"Uhm, Mr.Dream?" the young guard's high voice snapped Dream out of his thoughts, pulling him back to reality. 

He could feel Sapnap's eyes on him as he smiled at the guard and replied quickly, sliding smoothly into a fighting stance. "Sorry. Okay, I want you to attack me- don't let me get you on the ground," 

Dream's thoughts moved on from the Lindel royals to the fight in front of him, his eyes darkening with concentration. 

A flash of blue the same colour as George's eye flashed in the corner of his vision, distracting him. A butterfly in his stomach fluttered it's wings, the animal inside him perking its head up in hope. He felt a lick of disappointment curl in his gut as he realized it was just a shirt being hung out to dry on a clothesline. Dyna's tits, why was he even disappointed? It's not like he deluded himself into thinking George would come to watch him dueling again. Definitely not.

Dream didn't realize he'd glanced away from the fight until he felt a swish of air and a fist connect with his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. _Shit_ , he turned back to the duel in front of him and planted his feet, not letting himself double over. Chin tucked and hands in front of his face, Dream blocked and dodged two more hits from the guard before going on the offensive, ducking through the guard's defense and landing a blow to the jaw and a knee to the stomach. 

Dream was being too harsh, he realized. The guard was looking at him with an expression like that of an animal knowing its being hunted. 

"Sorry, let's go again." Dream said, relaxing and stepping back. 

"Actually, may I cut in?" 

Dream's head whipped around so fast he felt like his neck might break, but he forgot all about it as he found the King of Caerule standing behind him with a placid expression. The King was avoiding looking at him, instead focusing on the guard behind Dream.

Said guard stuttered a quick response and bowed low, head nearly touching the ground. 

"Geo- Your Majesty," Dream breathed, forcing himself to look away from George's face and bow respectfully. 

"Heya King, why are you down here?" Sapnap bounded over to them, his face open with curiosity. From his expression Dream gathered that George didn't often come down to the training grounds, much less interrupt a practice duel.

"I'm just requesting the service of this man here," George replied, gesturing to Dream. Sapnap exchanged a glance with Dream, who subtly shrugged. Sapnap narrowed his eyes and looked between the two several times before his eyes widened and he seemed to suppress a grin. "Ohh, okay. Dream- uhh, I'll see you later," Sapnap's eyes laughed at Dream's bewildered expression as the King came forward and took his hand, pulling him along. The guards watched with wide eyes and nonplussed looks on their faces.

"What are you doing?" Dream whispered as George dragged him through the hallways before pulling him into a room and shutting the doors carefully behind them. George didn't answer, his fingers cool against Dream's bare arm, sending shocks of electricity running through him. Dream blinked when George's eyes flicked up to meet his, bright and twinkling with excitement. They stared at each other for a moment, half smiles playing with their lips. Then George's shoulders started to shake with laughter and suddenly they were both laughing madly, wheezy giggles and arms wrapped around their stomachs.

"Why...are...we...laughing?" George gasped out as he tried to control himself. Dream leaned back and took in a deep breath, "I don't know but I like it," 

George blushed and walked past him deeper into the room. Dream looked around and found he was in what he guessed to be a private study. Bookshelves stacked full of books and papers and other trinkets were lining the walls and the carpet was a soft brown that had a few pens and books scattered around it. One wall was completely floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the training grounds and Dream could see just beyond the castle walls to the glittering Azure Sea in the distance. A few armchairs were scattered about and a desk was located in the back of the room, where George now leaned against the front of the desk, his eyes tracking Dream's every move.

"Why did you bring me here? Not that I'm not enjoying this alone time-" George shot Dream an annoyed look, "-but isn't this going against some protocol? Like, no running off with foreign strangers come to train with your guards?" Dream crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly very aware that he was shirtless.

George seemed to realize it too, his eyes dropping to Dream's stomach and a red flush rising in his cheeks. Dream caught the look in George's eyes, a surprised sort of warmth that hinted at something else, something both of them were reeling at in their own minds. "Get a painter and hang my portrait up on your wall, George, it'll last longer," Dream teased lowly and dropped his arms, letting his head roll back and his hands rest on his hips.

George flipped him off, making Dream snort. "I didn't bring you here for you to flirt with me,"

"Then why _did_ you bring me in here, George?" 

"Stop saying my name like that,"

Dream looked at George, bemused. "Like what?"

George looked frustrated, his eyes not quite meeting Dream's. "I don't know, like, like you want to say something else but instead you say my name,"

Dream closed his eyes briefly, trying to control his emotions. What the fuck did that mean, like he wanted to say something else? 

_Like you want to say you want to be closer to him, touch him, ruffle his hair. Maybe like you want him to look you in the eyes, maybe you want him to sneak out at night with you. Maybe-_

Dream shoved those thoughts violently into the back of his head. So what, he was attracted to the King. Big deal. It's not like anything could come out of it. 

_Then why do you keep coming back?_

Okay maybe he wanted something to come out of it but it's not like George would, or could, ever reciprocate those feelings. Also, hello? He's known the dark haired King for what, three days now?

_Then why did George ask your name? Why does he keep talking to you, watching you? Why are you here in this room now? Three days is enough time. After all, love at first sight exists._

He didn't believe in love at first sight.

_Yes, you do._

"Dream?"

He looked up and found that George had come to stand close to him, mismatched eyes swimming with silent questioning.

"Yeah?"

George seemed to steel himself, eyes flicking down to look at Dream's chest again. "Dammit, put a shirt on or something," George cursed, averting his gaze.

_Oh._

How was he supposed to hold himself back when George offered him every opportunity? It was unfair, really, how oblivious George was, practically throwing open the door for Dream to flirt with him mercilessly.

"What, don't tell me my lack of clothing is distracting you, hmm?" Dream smirked wickedly at the way George stiffened and how his expression struggled to keep composure, even as a hot blush started to stain his cheeks. 

"Fuck off," George mumbled. He grabbed a white shirt that was hanging off a chair and tossed it at Dream's face, forcing him to catch it. "Put it on and for Dyna's sake hurry up,"

Dream grinned and chuckled as he slid the shirt on, making sure to stretch his arms a bit more than necessarily and take just a bit longer to pull it down. He had to bite back a laugh as a look that was almost disappointed entered George's eyes before he could looked away.

Fiddling with the sleeves, which were just a bit too short, Dream drawled, "there, see? Fully clothed and still pretty,"

George mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "don't flatter yourself," and shook his head. 

"I bought you here just to tell you something. And, well, because I wanted to see you," George toyed with his rings in a nervous manner. 

"Oh, so you do like looking at me." Dream laughed as George raised both middle fingers this time. 

"No, I mean, fuck," George flopped down in one of the armchairs. "come to my room tonight,"

"That last bit and 'fuck' do _not_ need to be in the same sentence unless you're inviting me to fu-," Dream was cut off as a book was hurled at his head, his sentence breaking off into wheezing laughter.

"You know what I meant! Now shut up," George hissed and shifted in his seat. 

"Okay, okay. I'll come." Not like he was planning on showing up anyway, invited or not. 

"Good" George played with his rings again. "You should go, I have someone meeting with me soon,"

For a moment Dream didn't move. He stood there, eyes resting on George. Then Dream shook his head and headed out the door, leaving it slightly ajar.

What Dream didn't see was the look of discontent that turned into a rare sort of excitement that lit up George's face. 

But perhaps he'd catch a look quite like it that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, and your guys' comments are honestly the best thing about this fic. I love hearing your thoughts and reactions to my work, so please feel free to comment! I encourage it :)   
> I hope you enjoyed and I promise to get the next chapter out quickly, and yes, there will be sneaking out at night dont worry >:D


	5. Kingdom Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream visits George at night and after some chatting, Dream convinces George to come with him to the Caerule night market where they dance and realize maybe they care for each other more than they thought. Then, after delivering George back to his rooms, George surprises Dream with exactly what Dream wanted to do himself earlier at the night market...

Twilight was a palette of golden dust and deepening blue-red hues that made George's brown eye a flickering red and his blue eye an electric sapphire flame.

For a long moment Dream stood back and watched the King with a soft expression. He stood just beyond George's field of vision. The King was standing at his balcony, palms flat against the stone, face turned toward the sea. A breeze that tasted of salt ruffled George's hair and cooled Dream down from his trek to the palace. 

The night was young and warm, with a balmy sort of feel to it that hinted at the last days of summer. 

Dream was wearing a simple white shirt and brown trousers, and he'd actually bothered to wear shoes this time instead of going barefoot. His green eyes were bright in the growing darkness, his unbound hair messy and pushed back from his face.

George's eyes were heavy lidded and his gaze was miles away. Lost in thoughts, his body preternaturally still.

"George!" Dream greeted the King, smiling. George's eyes snapped open and he grinned at Dream. "Dream!" 

"Hi," Dream said, settling down on the garden wall. 

"You came back," George stared at him, lips still curved in a hint of a smile.

Dream cocked his head and shrugged. "You told me to, and I didn't have anything better to do, so, yeah I came back,"

"I didn't really believe you'd come," George murmured as if to himself. 

Running a hand through his hair, Dream tugged at his sleeve ends. "Why wouldn't I?"

George just shook his head and leaned back, letting his arms fall limp at his sides. "Sooo,"

"How's Kingship going for you?" Dream asked suddenly.

George blinked, having been caught off guard by the blunt question. "Um, well, it's going alright. I mean, lot's of paperwork and files, but my advisors help me often,"

"Hmm. Are there many visiting royals in the castle nowadays?" Dream prodded carefully. 

George shot him a look. "Is this about the Lindel royals? If you must know, I had breakfast with them this morning. They weren't pleasant, and they ate me under the table, but at least they didn't flirt with me relentlessly." George said pointedly.

Dream laughed. "What? I-," he fought a wheeze. "Okay, but shouldn't they be leaving soon? Your coronation is long over, and winter is always harsh on the seas," 

"They're leaving soon enough. I don't want to talk about this, let's change the subject," George commanded, eyes shifting away from Dream's.

"Okay, okay." Dream leaned back on his elbows, tilting his chin up to look at the King better. A moment of silence passed as Dream considered his options as to what to say. _At least they didn't flirt with me relentlessly...  
_

So George noticed how Dream flirted with him. But didn't George flirt back, all the time? He'd literally grabbed Dream and swept him away earlier, if he was going to complain about Dream being flirtatious he couldn't go around driving Dream crazy.

Or maybe Dream was just driving himself crazy overthinking it. 

But...George _had_ wanted him here tonight. Had interrupted a training session and basically ate Dream whole with his eyes just to tell Dream to come to his balcony that night. Surely that had to count for something.

His heart thudded in his chest, emerald eyes swirling. 

"You look beautiful tonight," Dream breathed. 

***

George felt a hot blush rise to his face, every thought in his head fading into the background as he really focused on Dream. 

_Beautiful?_

"Stop it," George looked away, covering his mouth with his hand and shifting on his feet. 

"Why would I, it's the truth,"

"Shut up, Dream," 

"You're the one who wanted me to change the subject,"

"Not like that!" 

Dream studied George, a smirk rising to his mouth. "You're really red, you know that?" 

"It's hot in here,"

"We're outside,"

"Shut _up_ ,"

Dream wheezed like a kettle; it sounded like his lungs had deflated. 

George breathed in deep through his nose, trying to calm his nerves. Why did Dream say that? Or better yet, why did Dream saying that make George feel something, make his heart skip a beat, make his blood run hot.

It didn't make sense, how strangely Dream was able to affect him in ways George had never felt before.

"Okay, so, I can't compliment you-" 

"I never said that,"

"and I can't talk about the Lindel royals. What else is off the topic list?" Dream asked teasingly.

"I never said you couldn't compliment me," George grumbled, unconsciously mirroring Dream's position by placing his elbows on the balcony edge and propping his chin up in his hands. 

"Well, when I do compliment you, you just get all red and start like, yelling at me," Dream pointed out. He laughed at George's annoyed blush, blonde hair sliding over his forehead. 

Dream slid his bag onto his lap, pushing the flap open and digging around inside before pulling out a block of cheese, two apples, and a sandwich. "Want some? I haven't eaten dinner yet so I thought I'd just bring it along, sorry," Dream said this all very fast, offering to slice some of the cheese and apple for George. Despite having dined only a few hours before, likely on something much heartier and rich than peasant cheese, George accepted and reached for the food Dream had offered. Dream reached out, handing him an apple and a cut of cheese. Their fingers brushed faintly, lingering for a moment too long to be an accident.

Blushing a light pink, George quickly withdrew his hand and shoved some of the cheese into his mouth. For awhile, they made small talk as they ate, quiet chewing and a few offers of more food all that broke the peace.

"Tell me about your life," Dream said suddenly. George blinked at the question, surprised by the blatant interest. He swallowed carefully, picking at his nails. "What do you want to know?" 

Dream considered this, green eyes never leaving George's. "Everything,"

George blew out a breath and leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of his folded hands. "Okay," 

As George spoke, Dream finished the last of his food and moved on to cleaning his nails with a knife, scraping out the dirt caked under his fingernails and trimming his nails so he didn't accidentally rip them off working at the docks or training with the palace guards. Dream listened attentively, eyes focused on George with a sort of intensity that made George feel like he'd been stripped naked.

George unfocused his eyes from Dream as he talked about his childhood, instead studying Dream's body and the way his hands moved deftly. The ease with which Dream wielded that knife was unnerving. Not to mention his hands were...well, attractive. Maybe George did have a hand kink. 

Shaking his head, George realized he'd stopped talking, words trailing off as he'd been looking very obviously at Dream's hands. 

"George?" Dream's voice bought George's attention back up to Dream's face, emerald eyes curious.

"Sorry, what was I saying?" George messed with his shirt, pulling at the soft material. Embarrassing. He'd been distracted by Dream's hands, of all body parts. Shit, that sounded so wrong. George cursed at his own mind even as it started to imagine things that were even more embarrassing than the possibility he was attracted to hands. Dyna's tits, he had to get his mind away from attractiveness and various body parts.

"Uh, you were complaining about your life in paradise. Something about daddy issues?" Dream feigned boredom, waving his hand in the air.

"Fuck off, my daddy issues are very important in my life story," George shot back stiffly.

"Oh, but of course. Your life up in that stuffy palace must have been so very tragic because of dear old daddy being a terrible parental figure," Dream fake cried, boohooing breaking off into wheezing laughs at George's annoyed expression and eye roll.

"What about you, you don't have family issues?" 

Dream fought to control his laughter, taking in deep breaths. "Umm, no? Not really. I don't really talk to them as much anymore, but we were all close and we didn't really fight, at least not more or less than any other regular family." 

"You have siblings?" George asked, his interest plain on his face. 

"Yeah," Dream replied easily but his face had turned colder, his eyes slightly closed off. 

Realizing he'd probably asked the wrong question, George hastily changed the subject. "Tell me about the night market," 

Dream raised an eyebrow but didn't question the order. "Hmm, well, it's very bright and warm, people everywhere, and lots of music. When you're down there you can smell all the different kinds of cooking and you'd think it'd be overwhelming but it all mixes together perfectly and you can go from stall to stall and eat whatever you want and then dance it off and go back to eat more," Dream paused, his imagination wandering. "The dancing...it's like the people and the music are the same thing and you can't help but swing along and if you're just standing to the side watching you'll have this insane urge to join in," he imagined himself down there, as he had the first night he arrived and early last night on his way to the palace. How he'd been grabbed by strangers with gentle hands and bright smiles and swung into the dancing, the music lifting and spinning him. Dream thought of what it'd be like to dance with George down there. Would it be different from dancing in the ballroom? Freer, maybe. But it might also be warmer, more...loving. Less formal, of course, and it would be something that made his heart burn just at the thought of it. Dancing with George at the night market, in the heart of a hub of life. 

It would feel like, well, a dream. 

"George," Dream said the King's name quickly, with an urgency. 

"What?"

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Dream suddenly sprang up, his feet easily finding balance on the wall. His eyes seemed to asses the distance between where he stood and George's balcony, and all too late George realized what Dream intended to do. 

"Wait-Dream!"

Too late, Dream had already leaped over the space between them. For a moment it was like invisible strings suspended Dream in the air between the garden wall and George's balcony, his hair shining golden-white in the moonlight and eyes alight with green fire. 

_Beautiful..._ George thought.

Dream hit the top of the balcony, hands hitting first and making room immediately for his feet. Dream dropped, rolling over his shoulder and coming up just behind George on his knee like he was going to propose marriage. 

Then he stood up, and George had to tilt his head up so he wasn't staring at a (nicely sculpted) chest. "What do you-"

"Come with me, George," Dream's eyes glowed so bright the hazel in them was overpowered by the intense green and George felt like if he looked long enough he'd melt right into Dream's eyes, "come with me to my side of paradise," 

George knew Dream was holding out his hand without looking down. 

For a moment, they stared and stared and stared at each other, breath short and attention wholly on the other boy.

Then George slid his fingers into Dream's hand and smiled.

***

"You'll need a cloak," Dream said decidedly, rifling through George's closet and pulling out a warm brown cloak that looked thin enough it wouldn't bother George but big enough it'd keep him covered and had a hood to hide his face. It was strange how seeing Dream in his room somehow felt normal, as if Dream belonged. George watched the tall blonde move around, humming a tune to himself as he assessed the cloak.

George's goggles perched on his head and he was already dressed in plain enough clothes to avoid suspicion from passerby. He had been slightly peeved about having to leave some of his jewelry behind, having grown attached to the ornaments despite himself. 

Dream spun around, tripping lightly over to George and swinging the cloak over George's shoulders, smoothing out the fabric and fastening the pin in the front.

His brief touches felt like whispers of fire against George's body.

"Okay, ready?" Dream asked excitedly. 

George ignored him, walking over to the mirror and examining himself. He certainly didn't look like a stereotypical king, with his plain brown/white clothes and worker goggles. His mismatched eyes would be a problem only if anyone looked close enough to notice, and his face, although recognizable, would be hidden by the hood of his cloak and he could always push down his goggles and hike up his collar if anyone got suspicious. 

"Let's go," George said before he could change his mind, eyes meeting Dream's.

Dream's face broke into a grin. That smile paired with his freckles and messy hair made Dream look like a teenager, a boy who'd just finished his last year of school rather than a twenty-one year-old with a degree in thievery.

The pair quickly made their way out to the balcony, Dream clearing the jump first and then catching George's less graceful leap from the balcony onto the garden wall. George let out an oomf as he slammed into Dream, Dream's arms quickly snaking around George's side and gripping his hip gently to stop his momentum, the other hand wrapped around his back. As soon as he gained his balance George looked up and realized just how close they were, his fists balled against Dream's chest and lips just inches apart.

"If you're going to kiss me, then do it before the sun rises," Dream teased breathlessly, cheeks as red as George felt.

"Idiot," George replied, twisting himself out of Dream's grasp. 

But he didn't fight when Dream casually entwined their hands, fingers practically engulfing George's. 

In fact, George tightened his grip just barely, but later when Dream teased him on it George would claim it was because he didn't trust Dream's ability to stay with him and not run off and leave George to fend for himself.

After some awkward jumps and maneuvering, Dream and George finally reached the famous Caerule night market, George's eyes wide and dazzled by the sight.

Vendors packed every nook and cranny of the streets, old ladies selling handmade dolls and shoes and food sat on worn blankets spread out on the sides of the street, brightly lit storefronts advertised baked goods and jewels and new imports that even George couldn't place names to. 

The amount of scents nearly overloaded his senses as he tried to work through all of the different smells, all of them mouthwatering. 

But the real thing that made George's heart stop and his body buzz with giddy energy was the _people_. Hordes of people thronged through the streets, bodies becoming one mass that moved in unison with another. In the square dancers and countrymen alike swung each other round and round to a charming waltz played by local musicians that came and struck up whatever tune they felt vibed with the night's energy.

George was too busy staring at the enchanting sight before him he didn't even notice when Dream slipped away and returned with two hot buns in his hands. 

"Here, try this," Dream pushed the second bun into George's hands as he bit into his own, mouth curling into a smile.

"What is it?" George questioned, hesitant. Dream just motioned for George to take a bite, shoving the rest of his own bun into his mouth. 

_Elegant..._ George snarked in his own mind, then bit into his own bun. Pure joy exploded on his tongue, some sort of sweet chocolate mixed with something else practically oozed out the bread, his mouth full and his stomach singing praises.

"It's good, right?" 

"Isamhuzieung!" George grinned at Dream. 

"I'll assume you said it's amazing," Dream laughed at how fast George devoured the bun. Leaning down, Dream carefully wiped away a smear of chocolate from George's cheek. "You had some chocolate there," Dream said absently, turning away. 

George blushed furiously and touched his cheek with his own hand, the heat from Dream's fingers lingering.

"Let's walk around," George said, taking Dream's hand and pulling him into the crowd. 

Too busy looking at everything there was to see, George didn't catch the starstruck look Dream had on his face as he looked at where George had grabbed his hand, nor did he catch the sort of dazzled look Dream had whenever he glanced at George to make sure the King was enjoying himself.

It's funny how the most magical moments sometimes happen when one person isn't paying attention.

***

"Do you want to dance?" Dream asked George as they stood to the side of one of the main squares, resting in a quiet alcove away from the crowd after an hour of exploring the market.

George glanced up at Dream, his expression shy. "I mean, maybe,"

Dream gestured to the square, where the song currently playing was coming to a close. "We could, if you want-" Dream's breath caught as he looked down at George. The King was watching him with an expression that made Dream's heart flutter and George looked so out of place yet so in place that all Dream wanted to do was kiss him. 

_He's a King, and you are just a boy._ A wicked voice in his head whispered, pulling Dream out of his fantasy.

He may be a King but that doesn't mean Dream couldn't dance with him.

"Let's dance, George, let's dance with your people!" Dream sang, grabbing George's hands and pulling him away from the wall, throwing them into the square just as the new song began. 

It was a lively tune, with a sort of giddiness in the fiddle that Dream's body immediately began dancing fluidly and he spun George easily, cloaks swirling in their own waltz.

George's surprised expression and awkward stumble soon melted into laughing and a quick pace that matched Dream's, eyes bright and focused entirely on Dream. It felt as if the music was made for them as they spun and tripped across the cobblestone square. 

George was faintly aware of the other people around them, laughing and clapping and watching the pair waltz.

They made an odd couple, the tall blonde man with the scars on his arms, tanned skin and pronounced freckles, and the dark haired boy much shorter whose cloak reminded the commoners of a ballgown with the way it was swept along in the dance.

But the townspeople had all moved to the sides, even the professional dancers pressing back and watching the two men spin each other round and round in a breathless dance of affection and a sort of charming magic.

In no time at all, George felt himself being pulled into one last spin that ended in Dream dipping him down, arm secure around George's waist and chest heaving. 

They stayed like that for a breathless pause, eyes locked together and bodies still. Then they rose in unison, eyes still refusing to look away from the other. 

"Just kiss him already!" A girl's voice shouted from the sidelines, ripping Dream and George's attention away from each other and breaking the spell that had made the two feel like the only people in the world for just a few minutes.

George blushed as Dream shouted back, "He's got to make the first move!"

"You're so stupid," George mumbled as Dream lead them away, keeping George tucked close into his side. 

"I'm _amazing_ , what do you mean?" Dream retorted and pulled George closer. 

They continued the joking argument all the way back to the palace, only breaking away from the other's touch for when Dream had to cross a space first and then have George jump into his arms. 

They had spent two hours at the market, and the moon hang heavy in the middle of the sky. The stars shone bright tonight and not a cloud could be seen. It was a perfect late summer night, and likely one of the best nights Dream had ever had. It was one of George's too, but he wouldn't admit it for a long time.

Dream helped George over the balcony and set him down easily just inside George's bedroom doors, which were still open, curtains floating on a phantom breeze.

"It's unnerving how easily you can pick me up," George observed, slightly annoyed at the obvious physical difference. 

"It's because you're so short and skinny, maybe if you drank more milk you wouldn't be a gremlin," Dream laughed as George fake punched him and flipped him off.

"I'm not even that short, you're just a literal giant," George countered. 

"Daddy chill,"

George flipped him off again and turned, making to walk into his room.

"Aw c'mon, you could at least say thank you," Dream mock whined, putting his hands together as if to pray.

George turned again, crossing his arms over his chest. "What would I say thank you for, Dream?"

Dream smirked. "For taking you out, buying you food, dancing with you, generally being the love of your life..." 

George rolled his eyes at the last bit, making Dream wheeze.

"You want me to say thank you?" George asked, his mismatched eyes glinting mischievously in the moonlight.

Before Dream could respond, before George could change his mind, before his brain caught up with his heart, George crossed the space between them and gently cupped the blonde's face, bringing Dream's lips down to meet his.

George let the kiss linger before drawing back and turning away, barely bothering to glance over his shoulder and smirk at Dream's stunned expression.

"Thank you, Dream,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy smokes thank you all for reading and commenting and leaving kudos :0  
> I'm sorry for not updating sooner, I've been very busy with family and school, but I'll be updating faster now since I'm on break!   
> Let me know what you all thought of this chapter in the comments :D  
> -I promise the story gets more interesting just bear with me I'm trying LOL


	6. Love Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream returns to the ship and right before he falls to sleep sees a shadow he feels he should recognize out the corner of his eye. The next day he and George spend some time in a secluded tower in a tender sort of peace. Princess Pierce of Lindel seems to be planning something.

Dream had spent the better part of an hour hurtling recklessly over the rooftops of Caerule's capital, feet flying carelessly as his heart soared and he fought the urge to crow like a love smitten fool.

For he was a love smitten fool, an idiot head over heels for someone he doubted he could ever have. Who ever heard of a foreign thief marrying a King?

But he didn't even think about that as he danced over the shingled roofs, feeling as if he could very well leap into empty space and just float away. 

The kiss had barely lasted a moment, but it felt like the world had shifted under Dream's feet when George's lips had touched his. He could still feel the burning heat, the shy but curious feeling of George's lips pressing against his.

Dyna above Dream was so whipped for George.

After George had given his 'thank you' Dream had stood there, frozen with shock. His mind had gone entirely blank, every inch of him hype fixated on the way George's hands fit perfectly around his face, the soft feeling of George's lips against his, and whisper of heat that was George's body pressing against his, his brain void of thought except a tiny, startled, giddy  _ Oh. _

Then George had been gone, biting his lip with a secretive smirk and retreating into his bedroom, closing the balcony doors behind him. Dream had gazed after him, eyes wide as saucers and lips slightly parted, hair messy and ruffled from running all over the night market with George. His heart had thudded loud and demanding in his chest, entire body aching from...what? Desire? 

_ One _ kiss and Dream was acting like some schoolgirl crushing after an upperclassman. 

But dammit did he want to run back and throw the balcony door opens and properly make out with the dark haired King who had managed to wrap Dream around his finger.

"What the hell?" Dream laughed to himself, running his hands through his hair. He was going to get control of himself or he'd do something he'd regret later, like, run back and kiss the King senseless. 

Which he could definitely  _ not _ do as the first light of dawn was approaching and the moon was making her descent in the sky. 

Making his way back to the bay area, Dream tried to focus his thoughts on something other than George. But how could he, when George had kissed him so sweetly not an hour before?

His thoughts were buzzing and his heart was thrumming, but his body was heavy with exhaustion and was pleading with Dream to rest. A hard day of training with the palace guards and then sneaking up to the palace, then running wild with George all over the market had thoroughly drained Dream's physical energy.

Slipping noiselessly into the cramped cabin Dream shared with Tommy, Tubbo, Quackity, and now Ranboo, Dream kicked off his boots and threw his satchel under his hammock, barely bothering to wash his face before slouching down into his hammock and closing his eyes. 

Sleep tugged at him, darkness settling in even has his mind still raced and butterflies fluttered halfheartedly in his stomach. 

Dream had almost faded into slumber when a movement registered in the corner of his vision. A shadow dropped into the cabin, quietly pulling the trapdoor closed and then danced on silent feet past where Quackity was passed out on the floor and easily dodged Tommy's arm that swung loose out the side of his hammock. 

Slipping away from consciousness, Dream fought to move his now sluggish brain and figure out why the shadow seemed strange, why there was a shadow at all.

A shaft of faded moonlight shone through the singular porthole at the back of the room, alighting directly on the shadow's face.

Blonde hair and stormy grey eyes that were calculating and snapped up to meet Dream's as if he'd sensed Dream's gaze. 

Dream finally gave in to the exhaustion pulling him into dreamland, but not before a final thought registered in his mind.

The shadow wasn't a shadow at all, but a boy he'd met a day earlier.

But why in Dyna's name was Ranboo sneaking out at night?

***

George had about as much control over his thoughts that Dream had over his emotions.

Luckily enough, he'd had years of schooling his emotions into a carefully crafted cool mask that his brain could run away from him and he'd be able to maintain the stony exterior he'd worked so hard to uphold.

Irritatingly enough, Sapnap had years of guarding and becoming attuned to George's tells that he could tell when George was feeling something other than what his expression led you to believe.

"So," George's eyes slid over to meet Sapnap's the icy blue and dark amber clashing. "are you gonna explain why you look like you're about to burst or do I have to station more guards outside your chambers and on your balcony?"

George's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "You wouldn't dare." 

Sapnap just shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm the highest ranking officer you have, I would dare."

George hissed. "I was planning on telling you anyway." 

Sapnap bit back a laugh. Yeah, sure George was gonna tell him anyway, and Sapnap was the Crown Prince of Grecia.

It was late the next morning, and after skipping breakfast with the Lindel royals, George had opted for working his way through a huge platter of chocolate stuffed buns with a flaky almost piecrust-like outside and a smaller dish of fruit mostly found on the west coast of Caerule. 

Both had been an odd request from the King, as the foods were traditionally commoner treats, sold by locals on the street. Yet another reason why Sapnap was suspicious of George, since he knew for a fact George had never been to the night market.

But there the King sat, munching away on his- fourth? fifth? whatever- chocolate bun.

They were in George's private study, sunbeams warming the room through the window. George sat behind his desk rifling through reports he obviously wasn't really reading. Sapnap stood off to the side near the window, gazing down at the yard below. He could see a dirty blonde head weaving in between two other people, dodging and ducking with the fluidity of a trained assassin and the technique of a street rat. 

Sapnap had always envied that of Dream, the way the green-eyed boy had managed to fight agile as a cat but with the brutality and mannerisms of someone who had obviously learned from the gang-ridden streets of Lindel's harbor cities. 

Sapnap had been forced to relearn the way he fought, but he knew he'd never be as graceful as Dream. Unlike Dream, Sapnap had been on his own for as long as he could remember, with no recollection of who his parent's could be. Didn't know if he had any relations still living. Didn't really care, either. Since he'd been alone, he'd had to learn to fight by himself; bigger, stronger kids beating the shit out of him until he learned how to fight back, swinging at the bullies with the meanest uppercut he could muster. Dream fought tactfully, with precision and calculation. Sapnap did the opposite, relying on his strength and instinct.

Shaking his head free of those awful early memories from his childhood, Sapnap crossed his arms and glared pointedly at George.

George just rolled his eyes and set down the papers in his hands. "Okay, damn, stop looking at me like that," 

Sapnap just gestured for George to get talking.

The King cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, eyes flitting away from Sapnap. He looked like a child who had been caught stealing fruit tarts from the kitchens.

"IsnuckoutlastnighttothenightmarketwithDreamandkissedhimasathankyouonmybalconyandithinkilimaykehimbutidontknowforsurebuthiseyesaresoprettyandhesveryniceandhisvoiceislikefire." 

Blushing, George looked away and thumbed absently through the papers on his desk.

Sapnap just stood there blinking at him, eyes wide and arms limp at his sides. 

"You  _ what?" _

***

"AYYYYYY BIG Q CAN I GET A BISCUIT?"

If Tommy didn't shut the hell up in the next ten seconds Dream was going to toss the kid into the harbor and leave him to drown.

"NO, TOMMY, IT'S MY FOOD, GET YOUR OWN," 

Scratch that. Dream was going to throw them all into the ocean with bricks stuffed into their mouths.

The shouting continued, the younger boys blissfully unaware of Dream's growing annoyance. 

Finally giving up on the hope he would be able to rest any more, Dream sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes . "Can you two shut the fuck up?"

"Mornin' Dream," Tubbo called down into the open trapdoor. 

"Good morning, Tubbo," Dream replied, voice still rough from sleep.

"Dream! Dreaaam, can you please ask Big Q to give me a biscuit? I'm starving," Tommy turned to plead his case to Dream, hair fluffed up in a cloud around his head and lanky body hunched a bit so his head didn't hit the ceiling. 

"Why do you think he'd listen to me?" Dream rolled his eyes and clambered out of his hammock. Forgoing boots, he sniffed the shirt he was currently wearing, deemed the smell decent enough to wear again, and made his way over to the ladder leading up through the trapdoor.

Looking up onto the deck, Dream grinned as Tommy flipped him off and cursed him and his mother into the next life. Dream laughed in reply, glancing at himself in the tiny chipped mirror and ruffling his hair a bit.

Climbing out of the cabin he was immediately hit by a gust of ocean air, salt spray tangling in his hair. "You guys good here? I'm heading out." Dream called to his friends. Something in the back of his head nagged at him to remember, but he couldn't think of anything he could've forgotten.

Frowning, Dream quickly did an inventory check and realised he'd left his bag down below. Turning around, Dream swung himself into the trap door and landed soft on his feet, bending to grab his satchel from underneath his hammock. His hand met empty space, and when Dream peered down he couldn't find the brown leather satchel anywhere.  _ Weird... _

Standing up, Dream started when he met Ranboo's gaze, stormy grey eyes that reminded Dream of something he couldn't quite place. "Hey, have you seen my-"

Dream trailed off when he saw his bag in Ranboo's hands. "Oh, that's mine," Dream reached out to take the bag, and after a moments hesitation Ranboo handed it over. Dream hadn't noticed before now that the tall blonde kid wore two different coloured gloves, one white one black.  _ Like a chess board... _ Dream thought to himself as he slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way back up and out onto the main deck, glancing back once to see Ranboo quickly avert his gaze.

Bending as he passed by, Dream murmured to Tubbo, "Watch Ranboo for me,"

Tubbo's expression never changed but his eyes slid to meet Dream's and he nodded.

"Thanks," 

Then Dream was gone, disappearing in the organized chaos of the bay area.

***

He felt the air leave his opponents lungs as Dream threw the man to the ground.

"You good?" Dream panted, highnoon sun beating down on him.

The guard beneath him groaned but nodded, forcing out a pained "yeah,"

"Let's break for water and then go again,"

The guard cringed as he got up, wincing and rubbing where Dream had driven his elbow a minute earlier. Oops. Maybe he should've been a little gentler, but his mind was focused on other things. For instance, where he might bring George tonight. They could go back to the night market, or maybe they'd explore the docks? They could have dinner with the sailors, who didn't charge extra if you asked them to fry up a fish for you. 

The thought of prim, kingly, refined George hunched over a fried fish on a stick down at the docks in his soft faun-brown cloak made Dream's heart sigh giddily.

"Dream?" 

It was like Dyna had heard Dream's thoughts and decided to be kind to him. Turning, Dream met George's gaze and his heart nearly stopped in his chest.

The King stood in a shaft of pure golden sunlight, highlighting George's dark hair and jewels so that he practically glittered as he moved. His mismatched eyes were clearer than ever, warm amber against clearwater blue.

"Hello, George," Dream greeted the King with a half smile. Behind him, he knew the guard had knelt in a bow.

"I'm in need of your...services," George said airily. Dream blinked at that. Services? That could either mean George needed him for something actually important or Dream was going to get to kiss the King again.

Either way, he was ready to follow George anywhere.

"Okaaay," Dream smirked and George blushed. 

When Dream had first spotted George at the ball, he'd almost laughed. He would have if he hadn't been struck by how pretty George was, in his crisp suit and crown that seemed to float just above his brow as if crafted out of pure magic. Then Dream had noticed the glass of wine George was not-so-subtly throwing back, and the boy in a wolf mask Dream still recognized after so many years.

Sapnap had flirted and danced his way across the ballroom floor to wear Dream leaned against pillar. Sometimes Dream wondered if someone had finally managed to catch Sapnap's eye. 

Sapnap had flirted and danced his way across the ballroom floor to where Dream leaned against pillar. Dream absently wondered if someone had finally managed to catch Sapnap's eye. Back in Lindel Dream had always debated if it was worth planning out heists when Sapnap could probably just charm the entire harbor into submission.

Dream had gone unnoticed by most people at the ball, but Sapnap had easily spotted him and had handed him a glass of white wine that burned going down. 

"You should dance with him!" Sapnap had said to Dream after they'd exchanged greetings and caught up. 

"What? Who?" Dream already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Sapnap say it. And maybe he was stalling. Watching the King for the past while had made Dream both want to see the straight-backed royal get drunker and drunker as the night deepened, and go right up to the dais and flirt King George into a dance then into a quiet corner just to see what might happen.

"The King! Go- before someone else works up the courage to ask him!" Sapnap had pushed him out of the shelter the pillar had offered, immediately drawing eyes to Dream. 

Dream had always been "too noticeable", always turning heads, with the kind of face you couldn't help but remember. Sapnap had found it funny, the way Dream's face was so pretty and his personality was comprised of sex jokes and harbor slang throughout their teenage years.

Shaking his head out of his thoughts, Dream refocused on the present. George had taken his hand and was leading him through the castle, past his office, then up a stairwell into a tower.

"Where are you taking me?" Dream asked. 

George had glanced back with a secretive smile. "Somewhere the guard's and my advisor's won't find us," 

_ Oh. _

"Are we going to be doing things you don't want anyone to see, King?" Dream's voice dropped, turning slightly husky.

George stiffened but didn't drop Dream's hand. "Why would you ask me that?" Dream could hear the blush and smile in the way George spoke even if the King's face was turned away.

"Hmm," Dream hummed noncommittally, no doubt driving George insane. 

They had reached a doorway at the top of the staircase now, and George reached into his pocket to pull out a small golden key. Fitting it into the lock, George turned it once and the door clicked open, creaking from age and misuse.

"Come," George ordered, pulling Dream inside and shutting the door carefully behind them, making sure to lock it. 

"Welcome to my secret hideout," George announced.

"Cute," Dream took in the cozy room. Circular with a low ceiling and packed to the brim with books, scrolls, old furniture, weapons, and hundreds of trinkets, the tower room somewhat resembled a scholar's cottage, or a storeroom in a guards tower. 

Inspecting a pot that held a red mushroom spotted with white, Dream let go of George's hand and picked up a book. Thumbing through the first dozen pages of handwritten notes and pressed flowers, Dream watched George out of the corner of his eye as the King threw himself into a plush armchair and sighed satisfyingly.

Dream couldn't help but smile at George's casualness. 

He moved to perch on the windowsill, pushing the shutters open and letting the breeze flow in. Looking out Dream could see a twin tower across the courtyard, and far below were palace staff scuttling about doing their daily chores.

For awhile the pair sat in a comfortable silence, trading casual conversation and flirtations back and forth for the better part of an hour. The clock chimed fourteen times, signaling it was well after noon and George might be missed down at the main hall.

"Sapnap knows," 

Dream's head snapped to look at George, who was looking down at his hands and fiddling with his rings. 

"Sapnap knows what, exactly?" Dream asked slowly.

The King bit his lip, a blush tinging his cheeks pink. "He, um, he knows we uh, snuck out? And he knows we, umm, we, yknow, kissed,"

Dream fought a laugh. Sapnap wasn't going to judge them, maybe be a bit awkward for a little while but never mean. "Okay,"

"Okay?" George repeated, obviously surprised by Dream's mild reaction.

Dream just shrugged and smiled. "Okay," 

The look of relief on George's face was sweet as honey.

Silent words passed between them, a silent understanding that whatever this was, whatever _they_ were, they were both okay with it and had a shared friend there to support them.

Turning back to look out the window, Dream felt peaceful. He and George would continue stumbling along whatever path of fate they were on, but they'd do it together and maybe even with Sapnap's help and easy friendship. 

They resumed their quiet for a few minutes before Dream was pulled out of his thoughts again by a hand gently covering his own.

"Your hair never lies flat here," George's voice was suddenly right next to Dream's ear, warm breath on his earlobe.

Startled, he turned to meet George's eyes and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. 

Slowly, as if not to frighten Dream, George lifted a hand a brushed back a stray lock of blonde hair that had fallen in Dream's eyes.

For eons they stared at each other, completely and utterly lost in each other's eyes. 

Time had paused in her tracks for them. To watch the two gaze at each other with something utterly divine.

The world was theirs, theirs and lover's across the world, young and beautiful. 

Slowly, their faces inched closer, until Dream's lips were a hairsbreadth away from touching George's.

Then Dream was gone, leaving behind the scent of ocean air and warmth. George gaped dumbly at where Dream had slid back on the windowsill, smiling teasingly in that way that would have made anyone fall in love instantly, emerald eyes so green the hazel was almost unnoticeable.

"I'll be at your balcony tonight, look for me," Dream called as he swung himself out the tower window and into the open air.

Yelping, George flew to the window and craned his neck as he tried to find where Dream had disappeared to. But he saw nothing, heard nothing, except a green ribbon that smacked into his face from below, carried up by the wind.

Holding the ribbon that smelled of salt and sea, George closed his eyes and smiled, breathing in the comforting aroma like it was perfume.

***

Her grey-eyed informant was right.

Princess Pierce of Lindel dipped a golden tipped nail into her dark wine, lifting it to her mouth and tasting the wine before putting her mouth to the cup and drinking deeply.

"You know, then." 

Her brother sat behind her, polishing his diamond axe. 

Eyes sliding to look at him, she grunted confirmation. The Blade ran a hand down the wooden axe handle, feeling for any nicks or grooves he'd need to smooth out. 

"What are you going to do?" 

Cold, calculating words. 

Turning back to the window, Pierce watched the boy flip agile as a cat out the window and catch the side of the tower, slowing his plummet and disappearing over the side of a wall. 

The King had appeared at the window, leaning out as if he were a bird about to take flight.

Dark haired with two different coloured eyes, a crown crafted from starlight reflected by the ocean, and coffers rich with rare gems, the King of Caerule would have been a threat to Lindel if he wasn't so mellow and peaceful.

But because he didn't pose a threat he was a very eligible husband for Pierce to consider.

That boy, the one with forest eyes who moved through the world like a dancer, he'd have to be discarded if she was to marry the King. 

"I want him gone." Pierce commanded, standing up and slamming her goblet down onto the table so hard the saucer rattled.

Her brother's red-tinged eyes followed her every movement as she strode for the door, sweeping out of the tower room as if she owned the place.

Shaking his head, The Blade sighed resignedly and went back to polishing his axe. 

Holding up the blade to the light, he debated forgoing cleaning the entire thing. 

What was the point, when he'd dirty it with blood again soon enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm very sorry this is very rushed and unedited due to school kicking my ass, it's a lot "prettier" than what the other chapters are but I hope you all still enjoyed! Also apologies for how short my chapters are, I will try and write longer ones in the future. Thank you all for the kind and encouraging comments, they really make me happy.  
> Happy new year everyone, let's make 2021 a good year :]


	7. Questions and Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunken George asks Dream questions Dream's not entirely sure how to process. A kiss turns into a hot makeout session on George's balcony, and Pierce contemplates how she is going to solidify her marriage with George and take over Caerule.

Dream was going to deck Minx as soon as he got the King back to the palace in one piece. 

George slumped against the bar, eyes heavy lidded and stinking of cheap alcohol. 

"Dreeaaaaaaam," 

Dyna help him tonight.

They had snuck out and after buying some new foods for George to try, Dream had made the mistake of bringing the King to a tavern. Stuffy and hot, smelling of alcohol and sweat and other scents Dream had rather not think to place, the tavern was your average harbor den full of pirates, drunkards, and lord's sons' looking for a quick drink and a place to flash their money around. What made it stand out was the owner, an intimidating woman named Minx who would hand someone's ass to them without blinking an eye.

And the drinks were slightly better quality than the other taverns scattered around Caerule's capital.

Looking down and trying not to move, Dream gazed ruefully at the very drunk, very recognizable King of Caerule with a look of mixed disbelief and adoration. 

"Yeah? Please put that glass down, George," he reached out to take the half empty cup of liquor but George pulled it quickly to his chest, somehow managing not to slosh the contents on himself. The dark-haired boy leaned closer to Dream, eyes bright and cheeks red from the drinks he'd consumed tonight. His hood fell back a bit to reveal his face. Hastily, Dream pulled the hood back up and glanced around the busy tavern to make sure no one had seen.

Dream nearly jumped out of his skin when a cool hand pressed against his cheek, drawing his face downward to look at George. 

"Pay attention to me," George ordered, his words slightly slurred. 

Taking George's hand in his own, Dream tried not to laugh at the King's clumsy movements as George pried himself off the bar and his hand fell from Dream's face to settle on his shoulder, where George pushed down a little to hoist himself up and onto Dream's lap.

_ Sweet Dyna. _

"I'm paying attention, George, please just-shit," George stumbled and almost fell right over, nearly taking Dream with him. Grabbing George's waist to steady him, Dream suddenly realized the position they were in. "Ah, maybe we should leave-"

"No! I like it here. I like being with you," George blushed and clapped his hand over his mouth as if he hadn't meant to say that. 

_ I like being with you... _

Dream was going to throw Minx into the ocean and leave her to drown if he got out of this alive.

"Aye, if you two are going to fuck get the hell out of my bar, I'm not cleaning that bullshit," Minx called from where she sat behind the bar, drinking some foreign liquor straight out of the bottle.

"Shut up Minx. What the hell did you give him?" Dream wrapped an arm around George's waist for more security. 

Minx waved a hand airily. "Don't go blaming me for him being a fucking lightweight, I gave him the same thing I give everyone else: ale and wine."

"Then how the hell is he so drunk?" Dream had looked away for a minute to grab a platter of hot food and turned back to find George's cheeks redder than the wine he was drinking.

Minx shrugged noncommittally. "Lightweight?"

She cackled devilishly as he flipped her off.

George was sitting in a way that he was eye-level with Dream, and he now bought Dream's attention back to himself by grabbing Dream's face with both hands and forcing the blonde to focus on him.

"You dance too well," George said it in a way that made Dream think it was meant more as an insult than a compliment.

Raising an eyebrow, Dream replied easily, "what's that supposed to mean?"

Blowing out a hot breath that smelled like cheap wine and something sweet, George leaned back. "You're a thief, a swine, a scoundrel. You shouldn't be able to dance,"

Dream smirked. "I can be a scoundrel and a good dancer." George just shot him a frustrated look that made Dream laugh.

"Why did you dance with me?"

The sudden question took Dream by surprise. He looked at George, who was watching him with a raw sort of intensity that made Dream's breath hitch.

"George..." 

Behind George, Dream was faintly aware of Minx blatantly watching them with a wicked smile on her face as if she was going to whip out a sketch pad and draw their portraits to plaster all over town. 

"Why did you dance with me, Dream?" George repeated with what Dream guessed was attempted seriousness but the affect was wasted by the alcohol slurring George's words.

"You've had a lot to drink," Dream said, averting his gaze and moving to help George stand up. "let's go."

"Hey! You haven't paid for that-"

Dream threw a bag that clinked heavily at Minx, who swore with a fiendish grin.

A tug at his hand made Dream glance down to find George's hands clutching his own, eyes large and dark.

"Come on, let's get you back to the castle," Dream murmured into George's ear as they stumbled out of the tavern and weaved their way through the bustling streets. 

"You haven't answered my question," George complained, drawing out the syllables. Dream just shook his head.

"Shut up now and I'll tell you later," 

They eventually reached George's balcony with only minor injuries; Dream eventually just tossed George over his shoulder and carried George home.

"Dream! Put me down," George whisper-yelled, wriggling under Dream's hand.

"You're going to fall, stop moving," Dream whisper-yelled back, tightening his grip as he heaved himself up the garden wall and leaped over the balcony edge with cat-like agility.

"Here, damn," Dream let George down, then immediately caught the King under the soldiers as he stumbled and almost fell. "how much did you drink?"

George pushed back his hood and mussed his hair. "I dunno, I think Minx refilled my glass three times? Maybe four?" He tripped back and leaned gratefully against the balcony doors. 

Dream blew out a laugh, smiling despite himself. "Shit, you should have stopped at two,"

"Hmm," George hummed absently, straightening his cloak. "You still haven't answered my question,"

Looking up, Dream met the King's gaze, forest brown and azure blue dulled to a warmer sort of colouring. Dream was glad for the moon behind him casting shadows over his face, for he was surely blushing at George's direct question and heated look.

"You wanna know why I danced with you?"

George nodded, chin tilted back and arms crossed behind his back.

Maybe it was the glass of wine and ale he'd downed earlier, or maybe it was the way George was looking at him now, a stare that felt like fire burning through Dream's skin straight to his heart. Maybe it was the way George had looked at him the first time they met on that ballroom floor, hundreds of beautiful people swirling around them but eyes only for each other. Or maybe it was the way that kiss had felt nights ago, hot and shy and yearning. Whatever it was, it filled Dream with newfound confidence and he looked George dead in the eye, emerald fire setting George's emotions alight.

"I danced with you because you looked like you needed someone to hold you, someone to kiss you, someone to look at you like you're made of magic." Dream exhaled.

Perhaps a bard would later write a song of this romance, weaving a ballad that told a tale of late night confessions and soft looks, a song of myth and legend that children would learn in school. 

For the scene that occurred was one straight out of a fairy tale. 

The night was warm with the last heat of summer, wisps of clouds in the deep blue night sky spattered with bright stars and a full, glowing moon that cast soft light over the two men standing on the balcony, hearts skipping beats and souls intertwined.

They stared at each other for what felt like years, blushing red as apples and surprised smiles turning the corners of their lips up.

George pushed himself away from the balcony doors, crossing the small space between himself and Dream. "I need someone to hold me?" the King breathed, eyes wholly focused on Dream, drowning in that hypnotizing green-hazel mix of Dream's eyes as he stepped closer into Dream's embrace.

"Yes," A shaky, one word reply.

The King lifted a soft, shaking hand to cup Dream's face. 

"And..." George's eyes dipped from Dream's to the blonde's lips and then back up, "I need someone to kiss me?"

The world had narrowed until it was only them in the night, lost in each other. 

"Yes,"

Heat whispered up George's sides and two warm, large hands fit perfectly just above his hips. Fighting the urge to shiver at that tender touch, George watched Dream's face, eyes swirling with emotion.

"And I need someone to look at me like I'm made of magic?" Dangerous ground they treaded, the space between them virtually nonexistent as their very souls warmed with hot flame.

_ "Yes,  _ George _ , _ "

The King's eyes fluttered and his heart felt like it was going to melt right out of his chest.

"No one has ever looked at me the way you do," George whispered. 

"How do I look at you, George?" Dream murmured, mind completely and utterly blank as his heart pounded in his chest and fire ran up his spine.

Their faces were just bare centimeters apart, noses nearly touching, lips slightly parted and bodies a hairsbreadth away from being pressed together.

"You look at me," George paused as he bought their heads closer, leaning forward on his tippy toes, "like I'm made of magic,"

Indeed, the way their eyes had met from that first dance in the ballroom to where they stood now on the balcony, eyes closing and lips meeting, was pure magic.

This kiss was different from the fast peck George had pressed against Dream's lips earlier; this was passionate and slow and they both were smiling giddily, drunk both on the cheap liquor of Minx's tavern and the taste of each other. 

At first they went slowly, a gentle incline of George's jaw and his hands tangling in Dream's hair. Then, as their hearts sang and they found their own rhythm that felt like heaven, they broke apart and then slammed back into each other with a feverish sort of intensity. It's clumsy, and neither knows where this could possibly lead, but the surreal feeling of each other is enough in this moment. They can forget who they are, if only for a moment. 

Sweet fire poured down George's throat as he felt Dream pull him closer, then backing him up until they hit the balcony doors. Wrapping his legs around Dream's waist, George dove back into the kiss with renewed passion. Dream's lips dipped to George's neck, causing the King to emit a soft noise that tugged at the edges of both his and Dream's very precarious restraint.

They were no longer King of Caerule and Lindel Slum Thief, but rather just Dream and George, two boys that didn't care who they were if they could only keep kissing each other.

When they finally broke apart, panting and lips swollen crimson red, they stared at each other in a mixture of awe and surprise.

"You," Dream finally wheezed out, "are a very, _very_ good kisser for someone who has never had a life outside the palace.

"Thank you?" George laughed, bumping his forehead against Dreams.

A cool breeze blew toward them, ruffling their hair and sending shivers down George's spine, jerking them out of their stupor and bringing back to reality.

"Let's go inside, George muttered, wriggling out of Dream's arms until he was on his own two feet again, taking Dream's hand and leading him into his quarters.

Dream paused at the threshold for a split second, hesitating. But an insistent tug from George and Dream was crossing into the King's room, shadowed until George lit a lamp and warm light filled the space.

"This is pretty small for a King's chambers," Dream observed as they walked over near George's bed.

Ah. Bed.

George, being ever oblivious, just set the lamp down on his nightstand, kicked off his boots and flung himself onto the bed, gesturing for Dream to sit down. 

Dream, being ever obliging, sat down carefully on the bed and opted for watching the King fondly. George's hair was still messy from where Dream had run his hand through it, and his eyes were closed so his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks like coal dust. 

The red blush had faded into a petal-pink that was pretty as any flower, and George's lips were still swollen alluringly.

Dream was still reeling from the hot kisses they'd shared minutes earlier, but his heart was slowing down and the butterflies in his stomach resigning to a slower fluttering.

"I never liked having a big room," George said after a few beats of silence.

"Why not?" funny. Royals always seemed to like the opposite, bigger, more expensive, _grander_ things.

George hummed, thinking. "It feels so empty when it's just me. I've never had siblings, and Father's family didn't visit often."

"What's the story there? I know your mother asked your father's name at her ball, but who was your father?" Dream asked. Maybe it was selfish of him to wonder; George's father was likely a noble. _Certainly better than a foreign street swindler..._

George laughed and opened his eyes, brown and blue sparkling with memories.

"Father was actually like you," George teased, poking Dream in the side. 

"Whaddya mean by that? That he was hot, good at dancing, and altogether irresistible?" Dream teased back, catching George's hand and pulling it against his chest.

"Haha, no." George closed his eyes again, hand going limp in Dream's. "he was poor, with no status other than the reputation he'd made for himself on the streets. He was the first of his family to go to college, did you know?" Dream shook his head. George's eyes were heavy lidded but content and filled with a sort of admiration for his father. "it was because we had just opened the Caeni-" Caeni was Caerule's famous college that was free and had an outstanding reputation for being one of the best and most challenging schools in the world "-and my grandfather had to force Dad to sign up for the scholarship and take the entrance exam, since all Dad wanted to do was stow away on a barge and travel to Lindel or one of the Ariseon countries for work. 

"But when he was accepted the entire family was shocked and urged him to go, get his education, and in his third year the Queen, my mother, had her ball and the entire school was invited, so he went dressed in his hand-me-down suit and stag mask, his only thoughts on the banquet that would be presented." Dream chuckled, remembering how he himself had been half intrigued by the King and half in love with the idea of royal food being served to him. The kids had commissioned him to steal some food for them and bring it back; he'd grabbed a few cakes on his way out and hidden them behind his back when passing by the guards.

"My mother," George continued, one hand tracing idle patterns on the bedsheets. "she was bored out of her mind." Dream shifted so he was lying on his side next to George, head propped up by his arm. "but she saw Dad stuffing himself in his cheap suit and stag mask and she walked right over to claim his hand for a dance. He didn't know who she was- had thought some girl from the college had pitied him and was dancing out of courtesy." Dream laughed, imagining the scene. George giggled a little bit, his lips turned up in a smile.

"They danced to three songs before my mother asked his name. He was completely in love with her, or so he liked to say. Mother always said that Father was too focused on the food to pay attention to her, and she'd found it so funny he was more enthralled by the banquet that he didn't even realise he was dancing with a Queen."

"Hmm, so she came up to him," Dream murmured thoughtfully, evergreen eyes soft as he looked at George in the low light of the lamp. "I thought that was against some protocol; you didn't approach anyone- I had to come to you,"

George opened his eyes fully and blew out a breath. "No, it's not what's traditionally done but Mother never liked following rules," 

"That's a very romantic story," Dream notes, absently drawing his fingers along George's hand as if to memorize the King by touch.

George shrugged, glancing down at their hands. "What are you doing?"

Dream's hand stilled. "Nothing, sorry,"

George started, shaking his head quickly. "No- it's not bad, I was just- I liked it." 

A smile creeped onto Dream's face, half adoring half mischievous. "You like it when I touch you?"

"Shut up, Dream." 

Dream could hear the blush in George's words even as the King turned away, flicking his hand away. 

Grinning, Dream started to mock cry, boohooing about how George had cast away his affections. At first he was ignored, but then came muffled laughs and "No"'s and "Stop"'s and Dream knew he'd won.

Grabbing George by the waist and flipping him so the King was underneath him, Dream rested his forehead against George's and rubbed their noses together, pressing quick kisses to the corners of George's mouth.

"Dream- Dream! Stop, you're like a dog!" George laughed, halfheartedly pushing his fists against Dream's chest.

"A dog?" Dream bared his teeth at George and shook his hair in George's face.

George had to cover his mouth to muffle his laughs. "Shh- the guards-"

Dream wheezed a laugh and let himself fall to the side, hair a mess and eyes bright. George had rolled onto his side to face Dream, smiling.

Suddenly, something in George's eyes shifted. 

"Dream," 

"George," 

The King paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. Dream's mind whirled with possibilities of what George could say, but nothing would have prepared him for the question George asked roughly, 

"Have you ever thought about marriage, Dream?"

***

Hours earlier, Sapnap had absently asked George the same question.

George had glanced up from his paperwork, surprised by the question. "Um, it's not at all on my mind, no,"

The heat of the day was fading and dusk was settling in, casting low violet shadows into George's study. Sapnap had been flipping through a book on old myths, likely bored out of his skull waiting for George to actually finish a report he could send a page to deliver to one of the nobles.

"You know you're, well, of marrying age," Sapnap started slowly. George had just hummed a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and turned back to his papers. "you could marry anyone you liked; your mother wasn't the only one to marry a commoner," 

George looked up sharply, narrowing his eyes at Sapnap. "Are you suggesting something?"

Sapnap had thrown his hands up and adopted an innocent look. "No, nothing in particular," he'd had to bite back a laugh at George's disbelieving look. 

"If you're saying I can marry Dream-" Sapnap waggled his eyebrows suggestively "-which I am _not_ going to do right now, then get it out of your head. I'm not going to marry anyone, not yet,"

George had said it in a way that left no room for argument, even as his own eyes and tense jaw gave away his warring thoughts.

Sapnap didn't comment further, however, knowing it was better to skirt around a topic like marriage. "Okay, whatever man. But if you don't hurry up someone else might just take him from you," Sapnap had said airily, grabbing a paper from George's desk and sweeping out of the room before George could respond. 

"Idiot," George had huffed, going back to his work even as his thoughts drifted.

Marriage was something he knew would have to happen eventually, if only to keep the royal bloodline going. He wouldn't be obligated to marry a woman and pump out heirs; adoption was always an option. But people expected him to find a partner, someone who hopefully was popular among the common folk and skilled at court. 

His father might have grown up a street rat, but he'd been a quick learner and had taken to royal life like a fish to water, maneuvering through the drama and veiled threats with ease and grace that came both from his years in the streets and George's mother carefully explaining how court worked.

Marrying someone he truly loved was a possibility for George, despite love marriages between royals being rare in other countries.

Now as he gazed at Dream, still half-drunk and high off the feeling of Dream's lips on his, George wondered again if just maybe...

Dream looked surprised, as George had been, and his green eyes flickered with something unexplainable. 

"I wouldn't mind," Dream said finally. 

When George just looked at him strangely, Dream clarified, "I wouldn't mind getting married. I guess I've never really thought about it before. Why, are you asking me to marry you?" Dream's emerald eyes twinkled playfully, a smirk spreading across his freckled face.

George rolled his eyes and pushed his palm into Dream's face, making the blonde man laugh and reach up to grab George's hand. 

"Shut up," 

Dream laughed and brushed back a stray lock of hair from George's forehead. "Then why do you ask?"

For a moment George hesitated, debating if he should ask Dream what's been nagging at the back of his head. What if...

George just shook his head and smiled softly. "No reason,"

They laid together in a warm silence, just breathing in the smell of each other and resting. Their bodies grew heavy and the lamp was flickering low, flame burning out before George's eyelids fluttered shut and he had to fight a yawn.

Noticing this, Dream bought George's hand to his lips, murmuring lowly against the King's pale knuckles, "I should go," 

A tightening in George's chest at those words- disappointment? that Dream was leaving? 

"Okay," George said, a little too late. Dream glanced at him and after a split second he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead. 

"Don't make too much noise dreaming about me," Dream whispered and laughed as he danced backward away from George's blushing face and punch, blowing a kiss behind him as he slipped out the balcony doors and disappeared over the garden wall.

Just like that, George was alone again, the heat from where Dream had been lying next to him fading quickly. Shivering from the absence of the blonde man, George pulled a quilt up over his shoulders and snuggled deeper into the covers. 

His hand rose to touch his forehead almost unconsciously, eyes far away. 

Then he closed his eyes, drifting off into dreams of flower fields and green eyes that were bright from otherworldly magic.

***

The green-eyed bastard was seriously ticking Pierce off.

"He's left the King's chambers?" Pierce asked harshly to the kneeling figure behind her. 

Grey eyes lowered to the floor, he replied, "yes, and heading back to the docks,"

"Hmmm," she wanted to send her brother out to dispose of the boy now, but to do so may be rushed and clumsy as the morning sun slowly climbed over the horizon, the first sounds of the kingdom's citizens waking up and beginning their daily routines far below where Pierce glared out of the guest tower.

"Your Grace, I must be returning if he is to not suspect-"

"Silence," Pierce turned away from the window, pink hair shadowed with red in the low lighting. Her brother was asleep in the next room, and guards were posted at the end of the hallways, but Pierce had learned long ago that even stone walls had eyes and bedposts had ears. 

"Get out of my sight until I call for you again," Pierce dismissed her informant, striding past him to her bathing room.

"Yes, Your Grace," he bowed low before stealing out of the room. 

Slamming her fists into the cold marble of the sink, Pierce glared at her reflection. 

The King was falling for that boy, she could tell from the way they'd danced together that night at the ball. But who was he? Where the hell was he from? Surely not another visiting royal, otherwise she'd have seen him around the palace. And no noble either, if the way he fought with the guards in the training pits was any hint. So who the fuck was this green-eyed lust demon that was going to ruin Pierce's plan if she wasn't smarter.

Biting her nail, Pierce ran through her options. 

One, she could simply propose a lawful alliance between Lindel and Caerule through the union of herself and George in marriage. That way she would be queen of not only the shared throne of Lindel, but of Caerule. This would instate Lindel back into its reign of being a powerhouse kingdom, coffers rich and one of the most influential kingdoms at it's beck and call.

Two, she could get the Advisory Council on board with her marriage plan, not telling George. Get a priest, get the treaty signed and passed by court, and King George would be backed into a corner.

Three, she actually tried to get the King to fall in love with her. This was unlikely, especially considering how infatuated he was with that blonde man.

Breathing out slowly through her nose, Pierce closed her eyes and calmed herself. 

When she opened her eyes again, her irises were like chips of crimson blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to ao3 shutting down yesterday i lost the last half of this chapter, so the last couple paragraphs are very rushed and not very good, which i apologise for.  
> On the other hand, haha oh god the festival and the end of it all today amirite lads.  
> Thank you for reading, if you enjoyed feel free to comment what you thought! I appreciate all the love <3


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